


Queen of the Stars/King of the Clouds

by Rain_And_Sunflowers



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Empath, Empath!Reader, F/M, Gypsy!reader, I dont even like this show, Katie/Jay, My OC's who have an epic relationship, No Smut, Nomad!reader, Not really placed too much withing the stranger things timeline but ok, Reader Has Powers, Reader-Insert, So be glad I wrote this, Steve is a total sweetheart, asexual!Reader, bittersweet relationship, but also not a bad one, kiss, man can i just stop with the tags, more tags are just spoilers, new comer reader, not exactly a happy ending, off timeline a little, oh and a lot of angst, ok maybe a little, ok one smut scene, reader x steve - Freeform, uhhhhhh, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rain_And_Sunflowers/pseuds/Rain_And_Sunflowers
Summary: (Reader Insert; Written in first person)Sometimes; the distinction between your emotions, and someone else's, are indistinguishable.Sometimes; when you laugh or cry, it was not your choice.Life had always been on the road, the next country, next adventure. Yet now you have become tied down, separated from that path. Now; there was no homeschooling, there were no gypsy camps, and definitely no quiet places. Or quiet minds.You keep lying to yourself; Things will pass. I'll get through this. I'm not a coward...That's not what last October proved. That's not what this town has proved. And nothing has anything to do a boy.You've never been in love, have you?





	1. (pretext) AN

**Author's Note:**

> Sup, I got 3 things to say as pretext-
> 
> -I wrote this in a 5 day boredom killer
> 
> -I'm not into stranger things so I feel like I rushed some areas. I could have written much better, but like, ehhhh
> 
> -Since I didn't really feel too into this fandom, I only half edited the story. If you want me to add anything/edit something, tell me. I'll put it in/fix scenes up if ya wanna. But I'm defs done with writing it if no one wants anything
> 
> Otherwise, ENJOY. It was, interesting, to write.
> 
> (Also written first person. Some people hate that? I like it better)

> “ _Highly sensitive people are too often perceived as weaklings or damaged goods. To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a 'hot mess' or having 'too many issues' are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world_.”
> 
> _“ Empaths did not come into this world to be victims, we came to be warriors. Be brave. Stay strong. We need all hands on deck._” 
> 
> ― **Anthon St. Maarten**


	2. The Beginning (Year 1)

When I was little, I didn’t throw tantrums.

 

Sunday afternoon shopping was unadvised for parents; yet families swarmed in anyways. The supermarket was a hectic tirade of chatter, noise and crowds. Shopping carts colliding, yelling, hurried steps from aisle 4, to 2, 8, and again to 4. A kaleidoscope of coloured advertisements distracted children, in the same way they made matters worse by luring young minds into thinking yes; you really need that toy, or candy bar, or new flavoured yogurt. It's ultimately the promise of happy. The conformed thought that materialism is worth the price. Children are unfortunately likely to not understand the priceless joy of a perfect sunset soccer game, or a chilling swim on the hot summer nights. The experience of a paint fight, or dancing in the rain. The sound of your mother's piano as you struggle with wood chipping or origami. They get too lost in owning things, and not doing things. Too caught up in colour, in promise, but not reflection. So they pass the advert, time to ask the parents. Time to see the outcome of the standing situation. Pleading looks into Mummy and Daddy’s eyes; The answer is usually a no. The answer realistically should stay no, but kids don't like that.

Funny how children, especially babies, are like dominoes; When one starts crying, another follows. My mother thought she had stumbled upon some secret infant-silencing technique when she had me. I never cried in her arms, it was like magic the way I silenced my cries into coo's within seconds of her touch. This thought was only to last until she started holding her friend’s babies, or my little cousin, that she realized it was only me. She only had a way of silencing me.

So when we were at the store, on that particularly busy weekend shop; when my dad was at the other end of aisle, and my mum was too busy choosing between elbow or spiral pasta; the first child started crying.

It was akin to a tsunami. First a baby, then their sibling. A higher shriek followed, and then a boy yelling. All around, children began kicking, screaming, balling fists and crying.

No one was unoccupied enough to notice my mother’s face twist slightly in horror, in recognition of the emotional swamp we suddenly found ourselves in. Nobody heard when she abruptly dropped both pasta packets in the cart, seemingly ok with either choice, and knelled down on her already dirty ‘mom jeans’.

I was standing next to the almost full cart, hands intertwined in its metal cage, eyes focused on nothing particular at all. Glazed, and terrified. My breathing was becoming rattled, just as our gaze met, and she stretched out her arms around me; showing me tenderly that she was about to embrace me, that I was not to be shocked when she wrapped her arms around my small, five-year-old, frame. I practically fell into them, relieved, as if I was running away from a storm, and into a safe-house.

To comically explain how I felt, I'd think back to India Jones Temple of Doom. It’s like that scene when Indy is running from a rush of water, except there’s a cliff face ahead of him, so he seemly has nowhere to go. Before the water reaches him, he manages to hide behind a rock pillar; evading danger. I chuckle at that idea in later years, my little explanation. It's what I know my mother could do with me. The raging emotions could not touch me, as her calming embrace was absorbed by my mind. My demeanor swiftly changing into her's.

It must have looked funny, for anyone who saw, the way my mother was randomly, and so tightly (as if we were just reunited), hugging me in the store. They did not feel the way her calmness, her firm and steady soul, kept me from being pushed over a cliff. The cliff their children had carved. And of course, no one heard the little, soft whispering of her voice telling me, “Just breath baby, nice and easy. Slowly. Breath very slowly”.

It might have been a mistake to shop at such a crowded, such a rowdy time. But at least she was there. And soon my father came, and understood when he saw us that we had to leave as quickly as possible.

When we hurried over to pay, the greasy haired, plump cashier, with what I remember was a smiley face sticker on her shirt (something that had really gripped my attention, maybe for the fact that no one was smiling that day but this woman and her yellow sticker), awarded my mother for having such a ‘well behaved child’. If only she knew, that I was really not as different as the children around me. Though, I suppose, I am worlds apart in other ways then behavior.

But that moment was truly terrifying; it’s a standout in my memories. Because, that was the first time I had ever experienced such a panic. The first time, I realized I had little control over how I felt. How my emotions crashed and bent and swayed. Because since my, rather non-dramatic home-birth; I was an Empath.

My mother caught my abnormality quickly, quicker then I probably would have if I had bared such a child. Unlike an average woman, she did not take to this discovery harshly. When her mother, my grandmother, held me for the last time, it's been explained that she was the first to claim I could in actual fact be a child of power. A power of emotion. Bless her soul, she was more interested in the paranormal and spiritual abilities that anyone I have heard of, and yet she died before my infancy has come to a close. She would have been so much help in my life, my discovery, and defiantly, my Empathic developments. My mother continued to be fascinated by me, though, and in ways took her mother's death in stride; and did not abandon her ideas or her interests. As the resident hippie, she had no issues sifting through information, from books to those little caravans of gypsies would stumble upon, about psychic abilities. And let me tell you, she studied her motherly butt off. Whatever maternal instinct was inside her was burning brighter than the sun.

That’s also why that made the shopping trip odd. I was raised in the rural areas of multiple countries, home-schooled, kept away from large crowds unless I was basically attached to my mum’s hip; leaching off her calmness. I had literally never felt such a strong wave of anger, sadness, despair, and frustration. None of it was mine, yet I was claiming all of it. I shudder to think of my past self, so young, having a tantrum fueled by the force of an entire supermarket filled with crying children. I have debated about it before, what consequences loomed over me; I might've screamed my lungs out, ripped vocal chords, clawed at my throat, and could have probably convulsed. In such situations, I hope for passing out. A mechanism my brain knows well; Like a computer, if I overload, I shut down.

It was only later in my life when I would recognize the supermarket we shopped at was in fact, closer to my mother’s sister, my Aunt’s, house. The one we rarely visited, and on that particular occasion, it was for a funeral. We mainly can't visit people on a schedule because we travel a lot. And I mean A LOT. I must have spent a sixth of my life in America, and the rest in Europe. And that one glorious trip to New Zealand.

When I was turning 17, a pinnacle of my youth, such an exciting time for many, I was slapped in the face by something not very physical. A serious feeling. A foreign feeling.

Sacrifice.

And for an entire lifetime spent on the road, chasing the sunrise, fixing our outdated, paint decorated, van before landing another rental by an ocean, or in the cliffs, or just settling on plain camping; Teenage years eating toast and fruit with a view of mountain goats, or joining campfires full of foreign song, flowy, loud and cheerful dancing, with the jingling of bangles, and boisterous men displaying swordsmanship; Night’s where I shared hammocks with kids my age, heavily accented words, telling me more about constellations then any book I have ever read; From my whole life chasing the next big adventure, in the freezing snow or in the burning heat, all over countries many only dream of visiting; I had seen it all. And it was all taken away from me.

My parents had landed a job more demanding then I had anticipated, and further then expected. Africa. Well payed. Intense. And not suited for a family. No further questions I could ask, because it was "important".

And of course, I had no close relatives in Europe. I had a gander of the few I would want to be left with. Portugal and Norway didn't seem like bad options, distant cousins, generous families. Yet I should have known I had no say in the matter, that I was going to stay with the 'most trusted' relative, my Aunt, who basically lived world's away from what I was use to.

“But at least you are not living in or near a city”, my mother offered, bags already packed and my passport in check, “She lives on the edge of a small town; Hawkins. You remember this right? You do know where Indiana is. We stayed over a couple of times." Yes I remember all my world geography. It doesn't matter that I know where it is. "And that means you can officially graduate from a High school." I don't need to. I have plenty of work ready for me without a 'formal education', "I promise, it’s not going to be longer then 3 years." Or until I turn 18 and decide for myself. "But really, give it a shot Love.”

“I can’t disagree, Mum. I'm not allowed to.” My eyes were planted firmly on the dust I was kicking, shoes already wreaked from numerous hikes and neglect. My mother was happy, and tranquil. So of course, I attached myself to that feeling. I was not five anymore. Obviously, I had bettered my Empathy over the numerous years of my life with it. I could choose to ignore her positive vibes, but to be honest, I was smarter then being angry with her. It was a good job, it was good money. Maybe I wasn’t making eye contact because I was jealous she was going to Africa without me. Or maybe because our family was being separated for the first time. Ever.

But in reality, I realized at the Airport, it was because I was in fact feeling something almost ingrained in the air itself. As if this was emitting from no one, but the universe. On the plane, I recognized this as a very inane human trait. That something was going to go horribly wrong, and I had already allowed myself to be pushed towards it.

 

* * *

 

 

 _On my 17 th birthday, I vomited_.

 I woke in the guest room, no, _my_ _new_ room, of my Auntie’s house. My clock radio told me it was close to 5am. I only had seconds to fling myself out of the bed and run to the bathroom, feeling sicker then I had ever felt in my life. It was like being hit by a bus while spiraling down a roller coaster. If I can even make sense with that.

I puked, room illuminated with a single, fading bulb, trying my best not to miss the toilet bowl. My throat was on fire, the acid made my eyes prickle with tears. I hated every minute of it, and wondered what the hell I had eaten to vomit so harshly. After harsh gagging and coughing, I slumped to the ground. My mind was concentrating on the wind chimes outside, the calm sounds soothing, as felt round two coming upon me. Again. my thoughts raced, and I could not think of a single reason for me to be sick. I have been here almost a month already, spending my first summer in Indiana getting acquainted with relatives I’ve only seen max 3 times in my life. But I’d be dammed if my Aunt wasn’t just like my mother. Hippie, smart, hardworking, and pretty chill. She was very accepting of, well, the new life I had been condemned for 3 years. Another person in the house was welcome. And also, when I saved my neighbor through use of Emapthic abilities, the scenario played better then anticipated. First off, she was not freak out. Second off, that's how she found out I had abilities. A part of me I thought I could keep secret from her, although, after the incident I realized I didn't need to hide it.

By round two of my vomiting, my Auntie, her name’s Mari by the way, had silently found her way to me, and stood by the door of the toilet, watching my slumped, hacking figure, with a glass of water ready in hand.

“Thank you” I spluttered, out of breath, wiping my mouth with toilet paper, before gargling the water to wash my mouth. The summer was really starting to suck.

“Do you vomit often?” she asked, not a hint of sleepiness in her eyes or voice. Meanwhile I probably looked fresh out of a coma. Messy hair, baggy eyes, and limbs that had forgotten how to work.

“Never actually” I replied, taking slow sips of water, suddenly enjoying the coolness of the tiled floor.

“Like, never ever, or once in a few months?” she seemed to be trying to be prying, her emotions quizzical.

“As in,” I began, a little irritated, “I don’t vomit when I read in the car, or when I accidentally drank wine with gypsies, or when I’m lightly sick. I only vomit when-”

“When you are really sick, yeah…” she started, then her eyes wandered off. She bit her lip a little, still in thought. I started examining the pink, floral patterns on the tiles. “Or when you are in-taking an enormous amount of harsh emotions”

“That’s rarely happened.” I hissed, trying to put some fire in my voice, but it came out shaky. I felt a surprising round 3 coming up, and found myself forcing my head back above the bowl.

“You know Empath’s have their own sort of puberty?” She informed, “I’ve been reading some of the books your mother had you bring, albeit, you did give them to me late. I can only read so fast.” That is true. When I hid my Empathy from her, it was in my best interests. I didn't want her to worry about me, or feel as if I was being evasive. It is a surprisingly intimate thing, knowing how people feel. People hate the truth, and no one can lie to an Empath, so I'd guessed I would make others uncomfortable. In my head's worst case scenario, I thought Mari would throw me out. It only happened to be my misfortune that instead of being helpful, I just caused her to be in the dark for too long. The two weeks after my secret was out I’d been trying to get her up to speed with Empathy. 'Up to speed' just means I dumped the books, which I've never even looked into, on her lap. I hoped her enthusiasm for the topic was only because she was enlightened by me, not...anything malicious. Though I was not sure how one would use Empathy for evil. At the time, I was not powerful enough to do damage. At the time of thinking that, I didn't even know an Empath was anything more.

“I was hoping to get some closure from your mother that you have already gone through it, but the man on the phone-line told me she wasn’t in reach of a phone. A camp or something. Nevertheless, I think you would have recognized yourself if you have gone through it.” I looked up as I was wiping my face again, and stood to flush the toilet.

“Show me what you read.”

We walked through the dimly lit house, purposefully avoiding creeks and loud footsteps, as to not disturb my cousin, luckily sleeping through all this in her bedroom. Mari switched on her desk lamp, and shuffled through a few books. She got a little frustrated, before finally producing the book in question, and opening up a marked chapter. A wave of relief washed over her as her eyes skimmed the page.

“Empath maturity” She excitedly looked up at me, knowing her memory served her right. “It’s a debatable topic, since quite a few documented Empaths say they do not experience it at all, while others refer to it as...an experience. Listen to this...” She looked down at the quote she, probably without my mother's knowledge, highlighted. “ _One of the most grueling experiences I’ve ever had emotionally. My whole body and mind were so vulnerable, I had no idea why. I would end up randomly crying on the street, feeling pain of people out of sight, and I could influence others too. But none of it controllable, I've never been good at control. I basically took off into the woods for a few months to let it subside. But I think those months of pain were worth it. Afterwards, I felt as if I was better at Empathy….”_ She stopped quoting then. I peered down at the name, { _Sarah. A. Bennet (England)- 26_ } written bellow the text. The book did not look old.

“Ok that sounds a little weird, and?” I looked at her, not completely buying into the Empathy version of puberty, but slightly curious.

“It doesn’t sound weird. Look, the chapter lists early symptoms. Sporadic insomnia, constant nausea, headaches, vomiting, dissociation episodes and a tendency to be covered in more static electricity.” She made a thoughtful face at the last one, “You don’t own any silk pyjamas, do you?”

“Cotton and bamboo only, but anyways” I got her back on track, “that just sounds like a normal illness. What are the bigger symptoms?”

“Well, constant sensitivity to emotions, Empathy on acid I suppose. It’s as the book stated, this girl could sense pain without even needing to see the person. Of course, it may mean unlocking a few Empathic abilities you don’t seem to have.”

“Sounds like bogus. I've never met an Empath who could receive others psychical pain or could share emotions with others. Sure I've heard of it, but in practice? And if it can happen, it's a no thank you from me. I’m cool with just knowing if I am being annoying.” I tried making it sound like a joke, but my laugh was a little too dry. It’s not that I hated being an Empath but… it just didn’t affect me? I’d already conditioned myself to be way more interested in nature, and travel. People were not by a long shot my forte. Even if I enjoyed the odd social event.

"We don't exactly know what an Empath can achieve" Mari shrugged, "Sounds possible. The evidence..." That was the first time I've heard about Empathic Maturity, you think as someone directly effected by it I would've been told already. I mean, the Empaths I've met before, they never mentioned.... “Even more, you could possibly make others pass out, or amplify feelings. Look, this could be potentially dangerous…. "

"It truly will be a day an Empath can be considered dangerous" I laughed. "Have you even read these books?" I wish I could've said yes. She might've just asked about an assignment I hadn't started that was due tomorrow.

"Sort of." I shuffled around, bouncing from toe to toe, "I mean, I know enoughhh..."

"No you do not, clearly." She sighed, "Empaths have, historically recorded, caused havoc before. Y/n, you better know some destructive paths your ability can take. On yourself and others. You didn't just think you would only be able to feel emotions, right?"

"Honestly?" I gulped, caught, I never payed attention to...the fact that I could be more? "No. Didn't. I thought I'd just, y'know, be a good lie detector?"

"Ha." She playfully rolled her eyes, but looked forlorn when she looked back to me, hand rising to her temple, "Looks as if we will both be studying up on these books, I clearly thought you had read them."

I thought they were filled with what I already knew. I mean, mum has read them. She never brought anything new to the table. The more I thought about it, the more I started to feel like an experiment. Or maybe mum thought I was just a weak Empath? I had been alive for 17 years, and my abilities always seemed underwhelming. And then I voiced this to Mari.

"It’s unfortunate for me to tell you, but age has nothing to do with power." She pointed back to _Sarah.A.Bennet's_ quote, "She certainly was older then you. And honestly, I'm suddenly doubting your separation from your mother in such a time...”

I might forget sometimes, but my mother has the uncanny ability of being calm all the time. It’s how I never threw tantrums. How I survived in crowds. How I made a base emotion to focus on when I wasn’t coping. She was the perfect parent to raise an Empath. She had no experience in the field of psychic powers, and yet she handled me expertly. She made sure, whatever happened, I could grow up like a normal feeling child, because I always was able to borrow those clean, clam, tender emotions she emitted.

I was starting High School soon, buildings full of emotional, irrational teenagers, and teachers too. Aunt Mari had a job, I had no one to home-school me. And with my parents so far away, if this is as serious as it sounds…

“I need to vomit again” Acid rising in my throat, I abruptly leave her, wondering if I even have anything left in my stomach to hurl up.

"I'l figure something out, I promise." She calls out to be, her emotions oddly positive.

'And I have to read up on books too.' I thought, 'Just another task in my never ending list of things to do as I get use to my new, caged life.'


	3. Peaches (Year 1)

_It’s sunny that Thursday, a few days before the new term._

 

I’m lying in the grass outside, in the open backyard of the estate. It’s a pretty cool backyard to be honest. The type you would be thankful to have if you were housebound, as well as if you just liked having a nice backyard. My Aunt, by the looks of it a few years ago, tied a swing on a tree, which my little cousin Rose (Rosemary, yes, eclectic as names go), is enjoying right now. I’m flicking through my little art folder, not in the mood for drawing or painting, but just to review what I have created. I stop wishfully at the few sketches I made back in Romania, and I almost cry when I review the detailed buildings I drew by memory. I don’t know why, though. If I miss the landscape, or the fact that I miss my parents.Or the fact that I was travelling. I quickly flip the page, moving onto illustrations of plants I saw, and wildlife encountered.

We are wasting time. Aunt Mari left really early this morning, and said she would come back with a surprise. Which is probably for me.

I’ve been housebound ever since my vomiting fit. I know it was my birthday, but I didn’t feel sad at all. I spent the day baking cookies with Rose, making flower crowns, receiving a gift of really beautiful earrings (gold plated, sun and moon shaped, with intricate patterns, and jeweled. I rarely take them off) and ending the night with a rental movie.

But of course, being house bound for two weeks has left me needy for something more then the backyard and it’s swing. Not matter the books I read, games I play, piano I practice, drawings I make, and dips in the “pool” (a bathtub outside we fill with water), I don’t feel satisfied. I want to bike ride around this unfamiliar town. Learn the streets, the scenery, the stores, the parks. I want to go to the cinema, visit the library, acquaint myself with the school grounds. I am yet to even see what Hawkins High School looks like. I don’t think Mari understands how nervous I am about going to a real school. I don’t exactly know the in’s and outs. Do I even have to? What does one even have to know before going to High School? Again, I am unsure.

At this point I’m not worried about the possible bullies, or rivalries, or romances, or making friends or joining clubs. I’m absolutely terrified, after reading the books, that I’ll cause someone to faint, or intake the rage of a jock and punch a teacher. Or utilize the courage of a womanizer, and accidentally land myself a relationship. Unfortunately, all three could happen, at the same time; in the span of minutes.

So, whatever my darling Auntie had in mind, it better be amazing. Heck, I’m guessing non-over the counter sedatives. Something strong, hospital grade. Me, doped up for my second last year formal education. Possibly?

Recently I’ve defiantly felt the effects of my maturity, no matter that I thought it wasn't going to happen. Just like when a girl finds out a period exists, they sort of don't believe such a thing could happen to _them_. I don't want to think about it, but recently, the outbursts, the feeling everyone’s emotions... it's been terrible. I even passed out once.

Rose doesn’t really seem effected.  But she also has the persona of a fairy, so I doubt she’s a liability in my case. Sometimes I can actually get high of her child-like mind. Sit back and giggle an afternoon away playing with teacup’s and fairy wings. She's 14, which is an important bit of information. Because it's so odd. The way she acts; So pure and innocent and loving. She’s always happy. I’m glad having her so close around, it possibly cancels out whatever negativity Hawkins residents are emitting. I've come to realize, this town is defiantly not very happy. Not everyone can be like Rose.

 

* * *

 

 

Here’s a lie that many would assume; My first year at Hawkins was a mess. Because amazingly, it wasn’t. Well, when I look back it, I might have been a smidge dramatic, but overall, it was fine. 

Aunt Mari had got in contact with a woman who specialized in herbs and naturopathic medicines, as well as how they effect psychics. She lived on the edge of Indiana, bordering Ohio, and supplied my Aunt with what I could say were life savers.

She got home when the breeze started shifting; a slightly cool wind that startled me as I sat up from my daydreams of flying, as I started up at the clouds. Rose was defiantly getting to me. I swear in a few weeks she'll have me believing in unicorns and gnomes and love at first sight.

We got out a mortar and pestle, and ground up what was supplied for us; then rolled them into little balls. They stayed firm. Then we put them in the fridge for safekeeping. My pills. _My medicine._

“The blend of these can apparently suppress your Empathy. It has little testing, of course not many of you around, but she said they worked well on all her clients so I hope you feel results too.” Mari stepped around Rose, who was busy cooking herself some nutritional yeast version of Mac and Cheese. (I have to be honest, it surprised me how much I liked the taste of Rose’s creative cooking, as a lactose intolerant girl, she came up with some interesting recipes.)  

“She also told me, while this is just experimenting, to drink some of whatever this is. I suppose I can call it tea or medicine.” She handed me a clear jar filled with deep pink looking liquid. “It might have some strong effects, but when I told her you were going to school for the first time, she looked about as panicked as I felt.”

“Did it cost you a lot?” I queried, yet her emotion barely swayed.

“Oh, forget it,” she waved her free hand, “Remember if anything is too expensive, I’ll just send a cheque to your parents.” She was right. They could afford quite a bit more with their new pay. We didn’t even spend much money as Semi-Nomads, so we had savings. And this is of course, medicine. Medicine is not exactly a debatable object; it’s a necessity. When you have to pay for it, you have to pay for it.

I reached to take the jar out of her hands, and opened the lid cautiously. They were nervous too, I felt it.

“Rose don’t burn the pasta” Mari quickly turned to the scent of smoke.

The ‘tea’ smelt sweet. Not sickly. And I detected the scents of a few herbs; I could not place the origins of them though. It really didn’t seem harmful.

So, here come my biggest mistakes of that year;

  * I was standing up
  * I drank the whole container in one go. Just fucking skulled it. College frat style.
  * They will always joke about the fact that I said “peaches” right before I lost consciousness for 27 hours.



 

* * *

 

My aunt was _actually laughing_ when I woke Friday night.

“You knew this would happen” I groggily scoffed at her. She mocked scrutiny,

“How could you think that?" She was sitting on a sofa in front of the one I was lying down on, blanket carefully tucking me in. "I was told you could pass out if you drank all of it, I just didn’t think you’d...y'know, _drink it all_. But that was funny. Luckily you didn’t split your skull open”

“Something hurts then” I lifted up my arm, which was basically lead attached to my body, and tried touching my forehead. I missed and poked my eye instead. "Oww, shit."

Rose decided to offer me a mirror, running back to her room. I thanked her curtly when she returned, and saw the offending injury in the reflection. My fingers stroked the cut on my forehead, blood already dried, but nicely bruising skin. A good ice breaker for Monday I suppose.

“It’s Friday, just so you know” Rose tells me. I groan, and twist on the couch.

“Wake me up on Sunday” I mutter into the pillow. “I’m brain dead.”

“But isn’t that what we were aiming for?” Rose says quizzically, putting the mirror down on the coffee table. “ y/n?”

 _Oh my gosh._ It took me a moment to realize it in all this excitement, but I can’t sense anything from them. Nothing even from the people right next to me. I reach out and touch Rose for confirmation, and don't even detect her emotions.

_Realizing my power is gone, I break out into an excited smile._

“First good news in a century Rose.” Turning my head to her, still lying stomach down on the couch. “And it worked.”

* * *

 

 

Miracle. That’s what it was. It didn’t just stop my Empath Maturity, it stopped all my abilities. Just as I began school, I didn’t feel anyone’s emotions at all. And when I stared into the faces of my new classmates, my first classmates, I had to have been the dumbest, happiest girl. Living my life in ignorance of how others felt about me, or how they felt in general. I was so fucking excited. I don’t think anyone could have predicted such a bland start to my High School life, which is a good thing. When I told my mother over the phone, though talking in a different language, just in case the people near her were listening in, she sounded so thrilled. My dad was too. This is what we were hoping for. For a casual, non-dramatic, positive start.

_And boy, did it last the whole of 5 weeks._


	4. School, Rainy Days, And Kayaking? (Year 1)

 

The first emotion I felt was hunger. Not mine. It was for waffles. And I wasn’t craving waffles. So, it had to have been Rose.

I was uncharacteristically silent when I got up that morning. Dumbfounded. I padded over to the kitchen, the first person to wake. And I turned on the waffle iron. I was almost in a trance like state as I whipped up the batter.

When Rose got up, wearing pink pyjamas with love hearts, and fuzzy slippers, her eyes went wide at my waffles, a smile creeping onto her sleepy face. It wasn’t long before she realized this hadn’t been hard work to impress her. In between sips of her morning tea (it recently changed from juice to tea, since the chill has been starting to spread), she stopped moving and asked me;

“What do I feel right now?” I closed my eyes, and breathed in the scent of maple syrup.

“Your toes are unusually cold, you feel relieved with each sip of tea, and you have a tad of underlying worry about something, my guess would be unfinished homework.” I look up at her, “and you feel very unsurprised about my answer.” She shrugs, and takes a bite of her waffle.

“It sucks though, doesn’t it?” She questions.

I think on it a bit. Then a bit more. Then a lot more. The room is plunged into silence, apart from the odd hum of a car, bird chirps, and the sound of a tense breakfast. An orange hue fills the room, from an intense sunrise, the light streaming in through the kitchen curtains. The past five weeks, my first five weeks without my powers...I've defiantly enjoyed them. Selfishly so, I was actually getting _use_ to the fact I couldn't detect emotion. I _loved_ it. Is that me being a fool? Most individuals want to have power. And it would have been handy in all ways to have Empathy. But, I don't think I want to know truths anymore. I liked being oblivious, I liked not having to deal with teenage emotions that weren't my own. And of course, I haven't had a headache in weeks.

“I knew it was going to happen eventually. It- ” I stopped abruptly, because I was crying, the tears falling silently down to collide with the table. I quickly wipe at them. That was curious. I was actually crying over this?

“Are you OK?” Rose looked up at me, startled, noting my tears. In a bout of curiosity I grabbed onto her arm. It was only a hunch, but the emotion intensified, and I knew my answer.

“Are you on your period?” I, too vigorously, blurt out. Rose’s eyes widened, processing my question. Then, this girl who I've never seen flustered, blushed delicately. The moment of unease was over as she laughed to break the tension.

“You are going to have the WORST time at school.” Not something I would joke about; but i doubt Rose wouldn't laugh if I accidentally punched a teacher. Though innocent in theory, she has a dark humor, and a mean kick. 

Just as I finished breakfast, Mari walked in. Funny, on this streak of feeling emotion, I didn’t feel her get up.

“What's the racket this morning? Who's having a bad day-?" Mari makes eye contact with me, and then the waffles, and back to me “Ohhh, I'm guessing it’s back?” her face shifting from surprise to sympathy, “How bad?”

“Personally, _catastrophic_." I grimace,"But in actuality, it’s not bad at all. I had to touch Rose to fully feel her emotions. And I didn’t feel you wake up." I hold back my discontentment, the words I would rather say. Positive mindset brings positive vibes, right? "I’m just glad I had the few weeks to get into stride with the regime of school. But like, now I’m just annoyed that I’m going to find out some fake friends.” I add dramatic shrug. I don't particularly care if I do find liars, I was born and raised on truth. It doesn't hurt me, knowing I'm being lied to, I just move on. At least, I tell myself as much. 

“Y/n, things are going to be fine. I feel it in my gut” Mari reassured, grabbing a plate for her breakfast. Her words abruptly reminded me of the time I had the opposite gut feeling on the plane.

“How many pills do I have?” I asked, taking my mind off the memory.

“A few hundred. You don’t have to take them every day I think. It’s a 'depends how you feel' intake. I was told on average, one every two days,” Mari grabbed a couple waffles, “Less or more, do some adjusting. Trust your intuition. Of course..." Her eyes caught mine, "You could take a lot and suppress your powers fully, but then they won’t last long at all.”

“You’re telling me to ration them?” I asked her calmly, but inside I felt accused. Looking down at the finished plates of Rose and me, realizing I could move away from Mari, I left to wash up, quickly whispering to Rose to get her unfinished homework out.

“Let's have a no bullshit conversation." Mari exhales, "I know you don’t want my adult opinion. But listen, I know how much you've been enjoying these past weeks. On multiple occasions you voiced how much you loved being powerless. I need you to not forget you do, _and forever will_ , live with this power. Don’t be ashamed of it, and don’t hate it. You just need practice. It'll become second nature." 

"You don't even _know_ what it's like having Empathy!" I hazardously raised my voice. "You can't read that in a book. You don't know how _uncontrollable_ it is"

"But I know practice." She replies calmly, "I know what years of training is like. You might not be use to something, but you can be. And once your maturity is over, you will defiantly need self control."

"But what about my situation right now!?"

"It's like being thrown in the deep end I suppose." She seemed to overlook my panic, and ate her waffles approvingly. After a few moments of uncharacteristic silence, she looked up, and saw I really was upset. "Baby, I'm sorry. I understand how it was nice not having Empathy. But the pills are akin to a psychic version of morphine. I don’t want you abusing medicine just to get out of feeling others emotions. You can't avoid practice. In sport or psychic ability”

This was a serious topic for the morning. And honestly, she was making the most amount of sense. I am a coward. I've told myself many times. I will always be scared.

“I understand.” I said quickly, finishing with the dishes. “One every other day, I can manage.” In that moment, I believed I could. “I promise you, if it gets worse, I’ll ask permission for more.”

She felt relived. Then I was hit with a rush of panic as she looked over her shoulder.

“You’ve got to be kidding” She gazed at Rose’s homework, a math sheet, not even a quarter finished, “We only have half an hour before we go!”

“I’ll do the homework sheet” I volunteered, “Rose, get dressed and tame your hair. Aunt Mari, please get our lunch boxes packed.”

“With the upmost diligence” She winks at me as I start tackling math problems I’m over qualified for. This was just life in our household. Sometimes, I don’t even miss my parents. Sometimes.

As we leave the house, me trailing along, kicking my shoes into place, slinging a bag over my shoulder, Mari hands me a pill.

Wordlessly, on the drive to school, I take out my water bottle and swallow the pill. It feels a little cold going down. I know it will take about half an hour for the effects to kick in, but I’m suddenly hit with the reminder that this is my first day at school with my abilities. And I’m sure it’s going to be a tongue in cheek, teeth grinding experience.

 

* * *

 

_A/N: (I changed the tense because I wasn’t happy with it. Still technically a retelling of past events))_

* * *

 

Rose kisses my forehead as a goodbye, before she skips off to Middle School. She knows I’m feeling lost, so I think she wanted me to know if anything happens, she’s got my back. Somehow.

A crowd of people; My favourite worst nightmare. I’m suddenly walking through Hawkins High as if it was the first time. Except I'm not lost the moment I step through the doors, like the first time. It’s not exactly as terrifying as I expected it to be. But colourful. Like the kaleidoscope adverts I saw as a child. Each person newly unraveling their emotions to me, all of which I slightly want to act upon.

Walking inside, it's worse. I’m hit with nervousness, annoyance, feeling cold, feeling lonely, feeling embarrassed, and mostly, feeling tired. I steady my breath, and internally meditate. Like my mother told me, I can make my own emotions louder and try amplify an internal calm. Or of course, if possible, latch onto someone else’s calm, which is not exactly a good alternative. Teenagers aren’t usually peaceful, especially on a Monday morning. And anyone can change their emotions as quickly as blinking. No one here was my mum; never steady and concentrated. It was like walking into a mosh pit, and realizing too late you are caught in the crowd of jumping, dancing bodies. I am forced to join the excitement of it all. The unpredictability of my next turn.

I purposefully avoid any chatter apart from ‘morning’ until homeroom. Which was much harder then I thought it was going to be. But 30 minutes is coming up. It’ll be easier to deal with this all soon.

I'm greeted the moment I walk into the room.

“Morning Y/N, saved ya a seat.” winks Katie. She didn’t really save me a seat, I always sit there. Next to her and Jay. I think it’s just the fact I’m late she’s joking around.

“Hey Katie” I reply, feeling genuine happiness from her. I’m glad. She likes me. Which is of course, not something I doubted. She was the first person to fully chat with me here, and she quickly became engrossed in my tales of Europe.

I was defiantly a spectacle when I arrived. During my first weeks a lot of questions were thrown at me, a full-on Hawkins interrogation of the newcomer. But people soon grew use to my foreign past, tired of the new toy, and moved on with life, even if I was to always stand out as a newcomer. I was grateful when my popularity died down. I had a habit of playing down my life abroad, which I hated. But I didn’t want them to think I was higher just because of the travel and home-schooling. And I also didn’t want to sound rude to the small-town life. Of course it is unappealing to me; I’m not hating on it though.

Katie stuck around; through the crowds and through the lab partners and the lunchtimes. If anything, we bonded a lot. I think she would’ve fit right in with the Sheep Headers of the Alps. Or Valleys filled with wineries. She is a child of the wind. Her golden hair and angled face told me she had French ancestry. The way she talked about her relatives in Canada solidified that. Her bronze eyes might’ve been the warmest thing in this school. She is defiantly wasted in a classroom.

“Sorry, had to finish Rose’s math homework, and then I had to get dressed in like 5. A complete Monday disaster. Anyways, the question is where is our dear Jay?” I say this a bit too early, and almost launch myself across the room when I feel a sneaky presence behind me.

“Don’t you dare” I turn, warning the prankster from poking me in the rib cage.

“Oh caught!” he mockingly puts his hands up, “Arrest me, I want to miss first period anyways.” Both me and Katie laugh.

“Agreed. P.E on cold mornings is a death sentence. I have a delicate brain to keep intact!” Katie removes some sheets from her bag, and shoves them (them being Jay’s weekend homework) into his backpack. He gives her a little wink.

“Lifesaver. Thank you”

“It’s not our fault you decided to spend a weekend out of state for a wedding” Katie rolls her eyes. “Who’s the new family member?”

“A pretty neat guy from Portland. I think my sister is moving in with him now. Sounds more fun then being down here.” He sits backwards on his chair, in front of Katie. He’s happy too. I like that. Us three, just having a chill, joking relationship. And just then, the emotions start to fade.

I resist the urge to hum in content, as they all dim out. Not full at all, but to a very muted, manageable level. To guess at the weakness, I suppose I’d have to touch people to recognize where a certain feeling was coming from. And just as everyone filled the room, it irked me.

 _Pink_. That's what it feels like, what it reminds me of. A reddish pink, spiky, heart throbbing. It swirls, curls itself around the emitter, and hazes vision. It makes you jump when you feel it. The faint emotion of a crush. There are few emotions that are powerful enough to make an Empath feel it's effects instantly. And I know a crush when I feel one. Same with hot anger, or despair. I don't know how I would explain it to others but...emotions have range. When you feel it more fully, it travels further. That's why sometimes it's hard to detect a good liar, or too easy to detect a lover. The louder your emotion; the easier it is for an Empath to feel it. And some may argue, if an emotion is strong enough, you don't even need powers to feel it. 

“Feeling alright Spacy?” Katie nudges me. I snap out of my concentration. The emotion too weak to locate now. My powers slipping, like sand, through my fingers.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I just had a thought get away from me.”

It’s not that I particularly cared. But it was the strongest emotion I’ve felt all day. Luckily a positive one. It wasn’t uncontrolled rage or begrudging jealousy. I just wanted to know who liked who, suddenly. It would be funny. All teens like the 'scoop' on who likes who.

I wish Jay and Katie would like each other more. I wonder what their kids would like. Her French features, and his Egyptian ones. I think they would be beautiful. But at least they don’t hate each other. That would make my life tough.

I sit quietly through roll call, doodling in my notebook. Years ago, I had already solidified a promise to myself. _I shall not play with anyone’s emotions_ , nor use this ability for a selfish purpose. From an Evolutionary standpoint, I’m supposed to have Empathy for sensing danger. Like the bloodhound of emotions for a tribe. Yet here I am, a highschooler, who just considered making couples happen.

A dull noise grips my attention; I look out the window, as does everyone else because that's just how interesting school is, as it begins to rain. I did see the sky's graying on our drive over. When it rains at school I feel so sleepy, and today it'll be combined with everyone else's drowsiness, oh boy. Really, perfect weather to read a book. I note the distracted faces of my homeroom buddies, and realize I don't really pay attention to anyone else in this room, honestly. Ethan maybe. Katie and Jay are my social strongholds most of the time. They don't share all my classes, but I feel like your homeroom friends are more important. Like family.

Odd thoughts, oh yeah, _I'm tired_. Thoughts normally get wacky when your tired.

Exhaling a deep breath, my sleepy head rests on my hand as I gaze out into the rain. Why am I hit with such a wave of nostalgia? The rains of Moldova, a river being crossed during a hike, I had blisters for a week. The storm in Belarus, I played in the rain with excited cabin kids, and no language was needed to coordinate and start a mud fight. A chilly autumn rain in France, where I poured over fantastical books in a strangers house. A warmer rain in Turkey, where I ate lunch under a tarp learned how to weave a rug. A heavy downpour in Denmark, I was forced to help farm with our hosting family, and after the strain I was rewarded with the best homemade pie I'd ever tasted. The light drizzle on a hazy afternoon in Lithuania, an art studio empty, paint on my hands, a boy with the eyes of gold and a sweet smile took my first kiss. I liked it.

I'm too caught up in these memories, as if they were my 'glory days'. It has to be unhealthy, reminiscing so much. Snapping out of it, I raise my head out of my hand, and surprisingly catch another pair of eyes evaluating me as much as I had just been the rain. As lost in thought as I must have been. I jerk my gaze before they can even realize I caught their stare, in a split second I'm facing my right. Away from those eyes. I need to jump at a distraction. A noise, my voice, to distract my thoughts.

“I think your class is going to be in the gym.” I whisper over to Jay, ignoring my pounding heart, _everything is fine_. He chuckles a response,

“Or maybe they’ll add kayaking to the curriculum.”

Katie looks as if she just got a business proposition. 


	5. Nicknames and The Bathroom Incident (Year 1)

High School is not a fun story; To anyone I think, not just my case. I mean it's not as if Empathy magically made the education system different for me. 

Although my days were never the same, they weren’t exactly exciting either. I can name the time I forgot to ask for a hall pass, or the time when I accidentally touched a bystander, who’s rage fueled me to slam my book into the back of a guy’s head for harassing a girl. Both times I got away. One of those times I focused so hard on the emotion of forgiveness, I might’ve projected it onto the teacher (or maybe the teacher saw how much of a jerk the guy was being. Tough call).

As my life progresses, I dare to remember that ‘Year One’ was not when the fun times started. It was in fact my Prologue. The beginning, the taste tester from the universe. My first Year at Hawkins was almost void of mishaps for many weeks and months at a time.

But of course, they did happen. And condensed; a few days of my life where it became scattered, when I was pushed into a hellish sludge, stuck in a mess. Captured not by my own actions, but dragged by another's, facing their consequences.

So, a montage of my life in my second last year...just a few juicy parts. The days I remember the most. Then I can skip to the phenomenal year when my high school life ended.

 

* * *

 

 

Aunt Mari let me get a job. I know, _fascinating_.

But Jay’s dad had connections with the manager of Hawkins’s cinema (' _The Hawk_ ', such a _creative_ name. I have since renamed it to 'el desorden', because fuck, its a mess to work there. And also in Spanish because Spain has some amazing theaters! Corral de Comedias, The Arriaga Theatre, heck, any place I'd rather work). Yet it was becoming clear that my boredom with homework and education was reaching peak levels. In all honesty, my mother has taught me all I will ever need to know. The American system was just too easy compared to her home schooling, I was flying past classes.

No matter my original worries that I wasn’t cut out for the job, I puffed out my chest, put on a smile and began a casual job at the movies. And bless Jay, he didn’t know, working at the cinema actually helped me with Empathic abilities.

I like how I can go on the emotional journey of a movie without needing to see it, which also gives me an indication if I want to watch it or not (knowing how many were bored watching a film equals taking Katie and Jay to another movie I know will not disappoint). I also realized if I’m not too doped on my suppressants, I can actually calm movie goers. I’m always called to the front when we have a particularly difficult customer, or when a child is crying. The manager does not regret hiring a high schooler at all. He praises my people skills.

Is it cheating? Technically. I mean, I don’t _control_ emotion. I _implement_ the suggestion of calm. And if the person is rational, they will realize it’s best to take on that calm and work through an issue. If I was dealing with anyone nastier then a hissing mother trying to get a child ticket for her 17-year-old, well, let’s say I don’t think I could convince an angry person not to punch me. And if I could, defiantly not on the pills. Which I am scared to get off. There is no way my Empath maturity stopped. It’s delayed. Like putting up a wall. And when the water behind the wall reaches a certain level, that wall breaks permanently, no pill is going to stop whatever I will have to endure.

October hit, collided into my life akin to an asteroid, and things defiantly changed.

I could feel that… that terrible shit, in the air. Something intangible. Like before, on the plane, it was as if something was screaming a warning. But that something is just air and molecules and wind. Nothing and no one. It doesn’t feel human, it’s just accumulated and discarded emotion, floating adrift, abandoned, through the world. And of course, I just happened to be picking up on it.

* * *

 

 

One morning I was too distracted to take a pill. It was day 3. Aunt Mari had a long night, which is an understatement, as she is prone to all nighters. It is not an unusual occurrence that I would wake and see a passed out Auntie, on her desk, and know instantly I had to drive Rose to school (right after moving Mari to her bed, like a responsible girl). 

It was apparently an impressive thing to Katie that I could drive. That is in all ways hilarious, I mean, I grew up in a van. I grew up on travel. Of course, I knew how to drive by the time I was 10. And getting my licence was-a-piece-of-cake. 

So, while mothering Rose though our morning routine, I kissed Mari goodbye, and grabbed the car keys instead of a pill. I only realized by the time I parked outside school. The windows were up, and we arrived a little early. I turned to Rose.

“This is my first time going three days without taking a pill.” My confession, like an addict.

“Are you feeling sick?” She looked me over, worry in her voice.

“No..” my voice trailed off as I saw Katie and Jay outside, surprisingly waiting for me in the weak October sunlight. “Maybe a little more sensitive. I just wonder how today will go.”

“I think you’ve been really cool recently.” She offered a smile, “Like that time my period cramps got bad and you made the pain calm down.” I do remember that, it was on a whim, and I was concentrating so hard I could almost not do it. But then I felt the pain, the physical pain, and latched onto it immediately, my grip on it tight. We sat by the TV for half an hour, she was watching some old comedy, while I held her hand in painful attention, getting rid of the cramps. Well, more like the pain of the cramps while they lasted. It worked, but I felt so exhausted, I fell asleep at 8.

“You are so right. I’m getting better at this. It’s just, three’s a landmark, you know?”

“And I’m proud. But if you ever want to, there is a boy in my class who is an absolute-” she makes a vague punching gesture, “if you ever want to focus on making him cry, that would be a dream come true”

“And here I thought my little angel wanted someone to fall in love with her.” She casually scoffed and swished her hair.

“Angels don’t fall in love, angles ARE love. Don’t be talking the role of cupid y/n, that’s my job.” She winked. My heart melted.

“Rose you are an absolute treasure. Go out and show the world what you are made of.” We both laughed. Then we exchanged a tender hug, and I felt just the perky emotions I needed to evade my worry of pills, and we exited the car, going our own ways.

“I thought you two were going to be having a heart to heart foreverrr” Katie gawked,

“Noo” I playfully looked disheartened, “I just had to tell her how to deck a complete dick of a kid in her class, it was so touching I had a hard time saying goodbye,” Jay laughed.

“We always appreciate the wisdom you impart on this world” He bowed taking my hand, “Our Queen makes sure her citizens are deftly in check, even if it means sending her 14-year-old cousin to punch out someone’s light’s” his touch doesn’t bring any new emotions to the surface. Although maybe, I think, an underlying feeling of worry. Of a fear; uncertainty. I had always guessed he was worried he’d overstep boundaries, or accidently be rude. He wants to be accepted. I am not at all acquainted with his Middle School life, but I don’t think it was happy. I decide to make sure he feels welcome in my presence, giving him a big smile and bowing back.

“Excuse me, what would this Queen be if she didn’t get along with her neighbouring kingdoms?”

“Hahaha.” Katie springs forward into the action, “Alright, I’ll be the Queen of Skies, and Jay the King of Jokes.”

“Wait, how do jokes compare to the sky?” Jay questions, “You’re more like the Queen of managing to trip over air, and I’ll be the King of..-”

"Eating an exorbitant amount of food in two seconds flat?" Katie cut him off, playfully annoyed.

"Only after the sun goes down." 

"Aren't you suppose to be a Pharaoh anyways?"

"Too many deities and practices to remember." Jay shrugged, "King has a better ring to me."

"Was that a kink?" Katie swung her head to me, hands clutched comically to her heart, menacing twinkle in her eyes, "Tell me we can consider that a kink."

We kept a funny little list of 'Kinks' as an inside joke. In all areas it isn't serious; Otherwise my kinks are marshmallows and fleece jumpers. It started when Jay wouldn't shut up about the book 'The Colour Purple'. Katie proclaimed if he didn't shut up about she'll consider it a kink. So now we just count any weird preferences are 'kinks'. Other weird things on that list include David Bowie, sporks, harpsichords and red vinyls. I highly fear and suspect Katie is actually writing these down somewhere.

“How about,” I say, making a dramatic thinking pose, then spread my arms out towards them “She’ll be Queen of the Moon, and you’ll be King of the Sun” then I gesture to my Sun and Moon earrings, “And then I’m guessing I’ll be the Stars?”

“Wow, you are seriously poetic” Katie says in genuine awe.

“Don’t drool over her! I think that makes us married Ms- Already-cheating-on-me-Moon” Jay acts hurt. Both Katie and me laugh, taking that comment in stride, and start off into the building.

“Aren’t the stars technically just more suns?” Jay adds.

“How about you keep your science away from me trying to sound whimsical and ethereal?” I playfully hiss at him. When I turn my head back at him, I completely miss where I’m going, and have a head on collision with a girl leaving the building.

“So sorry,” I mutter to her, Georgia, before I realize in horror why she was rushing. Our skin contact gave me a very alerting sensation: A panic attack. I watch wide eyed as she rushes to a car, with what I assume is her mother inside.

Fight or flight mode activated.

“I need to go to the bathroom, sorry.” I barely wave off my dynamic duo as I run to the girl’s toilets, weaving through the crowds now heading into homeroom. I don’t know how to stop a panic attack, I’ve never done it before. It’s a mental illness, they produce very strange, harsh emotions. Such things have so much more weight behind them. It’s basically as if this girl passed a baton of anxiety into me. INTO ME.

I almost kick down the bathroom door, relieved to find the vicinity empty, and rush inside. I close myself in the far cubicle door, managing to put my bag up on the hook, close the toilet lid, and sit on top of it. I find myself, within a minute of touching that girl, curled into a ball.

I try blocking out the world, holding onto rational thought. I’m away from everyone, this bathroom is empty, and the halls are too now that homeroom has been called.

So, here I am, the best start to my day. Hyperventilating, crying, panicking, while also knowing that these emotions are completely irrational and not mine at all. I bite my cheek hard, and the pain shocks me into silence, the taste of blood taking my mind off the taste of bile. 

My mind whirls through my options, ideas on how to escape a panic attack. Maybe I'll just have to sit through it? The thoughts of resolve are in the midst of working themselves out, but become instantly overshadowed with a new, oncoming emotion from approaching people.

My cold hands clamp over my gasping mouth as the entrance door bursts open, hitting the wall with an audible thud, and a rush of teenage hormones slam into me. _Lust_.

I’ve never felt lust of my own. Maybe some sexual interest, or little crushes, but it was never important. All my life I have known I was just not interested in, well, relationships. Not saying it won’t happen, but all the lust I have ever felt was second hand. I knew on my travels which girls and boys liked me. I knew right before they asked me out on cute little dates, faces flushed, how they felt. Not many at all held lustful thoughts, and if they did, they were not strong. And when I kissed, well, my only thoughts were 'oh, OK this person is enjoying this. I want them to be happy'. And of course, it was nothing like what I was feeling now. I was _not_ prepared for what these two brought into my space. And to be honest, I did not like it. It was a private, intimate emotion I had no experience in, and no wish to feel.

“Wait,” a girl hastily whispered, “are we alone?” she probably noticed my shut cubicle door. My heart almost stopped, and I felt the blood rushing in my ears. I was silent, wasn't I? They can't see my feet, I'm on the seat. My bag shouldn't be visible either? Wait no, how would I be the one in trouble here? A voice suddenly breaks my panic.

“No one’s in there, don’t worry” A male voice continued. And then the sloppy kissing began again. I almost gagged at the sound of saliva. Wet mouth sounds I can only tolerate Katie using in jokes. Little moans that made me grind my teeth. Disgusting. 

I don’t think I breathed at all. My lungs were burning, and my eyes continued with the tears, now from both panic and stress. I was so scared. So so scared of being caught, even though those two were technically the ones at fault here. I’m having a panic attack, that's medical. They're smooching, that's a rule break. However, I suppose I felt guilty because I intruded on their emotions, like spying.  Like a creep. They of course didn’t know that.

Just when I thought I was about to pass out, the girl's playful protests were heard out. A wave of relief washed over me so strong I think I got goosebumps.

They broke off quickly enough, leaving the room. Nancy and Steve. Of course, I knew they were coupling. I’ve felt both of their emotions in the air recently. Tangled with the fact that Steve is in the same homeroom as me, so I kind of knew he liked her before she did. For a popular boy at school, I wonder how much I could destroy his reputation if I was a mean person. If I let out that he was just a selfish guy, who only wanted to be loved without the effort of loving anyone truly back. Ehhh, boys will learn soon enough.

I stumbled out of the cubicle too quickly, out of breath, staggering towards the mirror. Fixated on my unseemly reflection. If I had been wearing mascara the day would have been 110% worse. But my only luck at that moment was that I didn't have to deal with raccoon eyes. 

“ _Oh!_ ” a male yelp scared the living daylights out of me. I jumped, visibly shook, and twisted my head towards the offender. 

Shit, Steve didn’t leave yet. 

The two of us shared a split second stare off. My eyes and cheeks red from crying and panic. His cheeks and lips red from kissing and embarrassment. 

Though I have the high ground, we are both in compromising positions; Steve in a girl’s bathroom. Me raw with emotion.

A breath later, all I feel is irritation. At the situation, at me, at him, at this shitty morning. Oh yes finally, my senses are back. Thank-fucking-you.

“It’s OK, I won’t tell anyone.” Wanting him out, I wave him off, more nonchalant then I thought I could manage, and reach to turn on the water. I’m concentrating on the cold, although my heart is hammering. I know I'm not panicking anymore, I think that’s his panic I feel. It’s embarrassing man, I’m letting you off.

He finally took that as a get out of jail card and nodded thankfully, exiting the room hastily. I watched him leave before I turned attention back to myself.

I sighed as I washed my face with cold water. I want to bath in the icy rivers of the Russia all over again. I know I'm irritated, but that doesn't cover up that I am embarrassed. I’ve been taken advantage of. First a panic attack, then the feelings of lust, and then the panic of being caught. None of them my emotions, all of them strong. I am hot with the shame of letting, within 20 minutes of school, myself go through such a roller-coaster.

“Fuck” I bite down hot tears. I can’t let this get to me. I’m stronger then anyone at this school. I can get through this. I can cast these fifteen minutes aside, for get this happened. Soon, I realize I’m missing class, and I’ve left my bag in the stall. Just a mess I would have to continue on with.

_I thank God no one witnesses me walk out of that bathroom._


	6. Blood (paint) on our hands (Year 1)

Surprisingly, Steve popped up again in my life. (Though, I do see him most days in homeroom. I just don't ever, _ever_ , speak with him.)

I had caught the _exact_ moment him and Nancy went through a rough patch in their relationship. Rough patch maybe an understatement, it was a full on war zone. I mainly knew because I felt it in class. But also, because another day of my life had to be ruined, I went to work and saw the quite notable red lettering.

“ **Staring Nancy the Slut Wheeler** ”

Honest to god the writing was so terrible, if I was them I would have just stuck with rearranging the letters on our billboard. It's easier to do then most think.

Upon reading the graffiti, I ground my teeth together. 'Now that’s just shameful'. And I didn’t mean Nancy. Guess if I wanted, I’d know who to get revenge on. I don’t think Rose would stop me. Tommy, Carol, Steve. Consider _your_ names written in red in my internal ledger. With better handwriting.

I took a pill earlier this morning, so I avoid the conflicting emotions of everyone viewing the sign.

“Oh, Morning y/n” my boss walks briskly my way as I enter the building, looking awfully tired. “I suppose you saw what’s written up front? Darn shame teens can’t just break up normally” he shakes his head, “Don’t suppose you know who did it?”

“I have a few ideas, but I can’t point fingers” The lie flowing out easily. “I can take it down if you want me to.”

“Thank you, but I think I can handle it.” It was his turn to lie. “Need it down as quickly as possible”

“I can get blood of a silk shirt” I quip at him, gaining his attention, “So believe me, I can get that graffiti down within half an hour.” My gaze stern. I don’t want him straining himself and cleaning up the mess of my classmates. It might not have been my responsibility, but they are representing Hawkin's teenagers with that sign. Teen's are already not viewed highly here. And this proved why.

“Alright, I trust you.” He nods, too exhausted to fight, “’I’ll get out the ladder then. Change into another shirt too please, I don’t want you ruining the work uniform.”

 

Outside I’m set up quickly, and have already wiped off the word slut. I went for it first. I didn’t want it up, offending eyes, starting rumors.

My mind is already floating away, daydreaming and not thinking of the arm cramps I would have later. I did volunteer. I start wondering if Nancy saw this, how upset she would be about it. Not everyone can be as unfazed as I am when bullied, in that area of my personality I'm a tough cookie . I mean, as teasing goes this is pretty lax. Just a few words that don't mean anything...though I do have to realize sex may be viewed differently in the U.S. I did travel around camps and towns were sex wasn't seen as taboo, and sometimes even nudity. Heck, sex was celebrated in many cultures. What's that saying that is used against woman here? If you have sex you're a slut, but if you don't you're a prude. Ha.

Nancy is an A+ student at school, grades and attitude, and it was consensual sex with another student. How was this even threatening? If it was with a teacher, or parent, or cheating, or even another girl, then that would've been more damaging. But sex with your boyfriend? I am yet to understand how anyone thinks this is offensive. The only offense I see is the ruining of the sign. Seriously, if you want to be amusing, do something in good taste? Like the 'Hollyweed' sign back in 1976. Classic. 

Seriously if Hawkins's 'King' Steve decides to call girl's he sleeps with sluts, then how does he expect to attract anyone? It would be more strategic to make it be seen as an achievement to sleep with the #1 desirable boy in school right? Not a degenerates action. Like seriously, you want pussy, call the girl's you have sex with Queens. 

I'm thoroughly in my own mind, ten light years lost in thought, auto-piloting my arm. I'm only snapped out of my inner debates and rants when I feel something suddenly. A pain, in my jaw, and even stronger above my eye.

‘It’s not your face though’ my brain reminds me. I look down, balancing carefully, to see just the boy I expected. Just the boy I was thinking of. But he doesn’t look to be admiring handiwork, or gloating. And his face is a little beat up, I realize. I can't help but suppress a smirk. Let me think, I believe it’s Johnathan Nancy has been developing feelings for. I think it was my mistake to conclude she would ignore them. But after the breaking of his camera in the car park, she seemed to take Johnathan’s side. I hated that day. I felt the pain of that boy, like being shot to be honest. I was debating leaving school early, if only to escape it. That was another time I went 3 days without pill. I experiment with them. I’ve concluded I’m too sensitive to do 4 days. That looks to be my limit.

I look away from Harrington with a roll of my eyes, starting to wipe at the W. I feel guilt and shame wash over him. It’s surprising. They have to be rather strong for me to feel them, from this range and from the pill dosage.  

“You want to say anything?” I call down, not looking away from my work, breaking the silence. A bit of red water trickles down my arm. It manages to get from my wrist to my elbow before he answers. The paint will eventually stain this old t-shirt. Funny, last time I talked to Steve another sort of red was invading.

“I just- I just want to help.” He sounds unsure, but his emotions are firm. He’s actually almost embarrassed, I suspect he knows I recognize it was him that caused this mess. Hmm, help. Well if that’s a way to learn a lesson, why not let the boy feel the consequences of his actions. I don’t want my arms to go sore anyways.

“ _Well isn’t that nice_ ” My voice is laced with too much sarcasm, but I just shake my head, and start down the ladder. I let him take my place. When his regretful eyes meet mine, for a moment I wonder if I’m being a bit too rude. No no, I have to realize he called his, probably now, Ex a slut on a bloody cinema sign. He deserves this, to do the clean-up.

For a few moments, as I quickly eye his technique, ponder over this boy. The one I haven’t spoken since the bathroom incident. We really ever talk. We can't be seen as more then homeroom buddies. But we also do have a term hovering above us, and it’s a weird term to be on with someone. The _‘I saw you in the girl’s bathrooms kissing the hell outta someone while I was having someone else’s panic attack, and then we made eye contact and I was looking like a crying mess and you were looking like detention was two steps away’_.

I see that he’s doing proper work before moving inside to my manager and telling him that a volunteer took the job for me.

“I’m not going say anything, but was he the one who did it?” he asks, messing around with the till, I just shrug in response.

“I think we know I wouldn’t let a random pedestrian clean _that_ mess up. And also,” I lean in a little, “I think he'd be different if he hung with another crowd, y'know?” My boss gives me an agreeable look. I move onto organizing snacks. I did not just stand up for Harrington, did I? Nope. I refuse to think so.

I hang around front of shop, and go outside when I hear a certain metal bucket hit the ground, indicating his work was done. No red remained on the sign, no evidence but memories of today’s mishap.

“ _Thanks_.” We say at the same time. I tilt my head quizzically.

“You did the work” I remind, and I really mean both the work; writing it and washing it.

“You’re welcome.” He corrects, trying to be light-hearted, it almost breaks the tension. Almost.

I silently pick the bucket up, and think of leaving wordlessly. It would be best, right? He doesn't need to talk with me. But something stops my movement. A long, hushed echo in my heart. Of sorrow, and regret. The sadness is so deafening, I almost wonder why no one else can hear it. This time, I can’t tell if it’s his or mine. Probably both.

“Hey Harrington,” I say, just as I was turning to leave, stopping myself forcefully. He practically looks relieved I didn’t leave. I trust he doesn’t have anyone he can talk to this about this. I’m actually no exception either, I hope he realizes that. But I need to get some words out. “You really need to ditch Tommy and Carol.” Oh lord I said it. I said something half the school wants to say to him. Though for various reasons.

His face is reminiscent of the one he made when I caught him in the girl’s bathroom. Shocked, deer in headlights, and a-little-a-lot embarrassed. Now he knows I know. And all he does is nod, one tiny nod. Not enough to say ‘Yes’. But enough to show me, defiantly, he is aware of his bad company. I move to leave again when he says his comment. Just like mine, out of place and not very necessary.

“Why were you crying that day?” Curious, all this time later. Seems like something _I_ would ask. And I suppose public (ish) crying was a little out of character for me. And we _are_  told by teachers all the time you have to take care of your homeroom peers. Why shouldn’t he care when the 'new' girl was crying, looking harassed, locked and alone in the bathroom during homeroom? Wow thinking of it that way, sounds dramatic.

But I don’t want this conversation to last. At all. 

“I had a panic attack.” I say blankly,

“You don’t have panic attacks.”

“ _I know_.”

 We exchange a glance, he can feel something’s off. I’m hiding something. Something that’s not adding up. But he can’t pursue it. I’m turning before anyone else can say something. _We don’t exist in each other’s lives_. It’s how the universe works. We might be the same age, in the same school, the same homeroom, but we do not interact. Almost like a fundamental law. Me and Steve Harrington are two very different, conflicting beings.

But it irritates me so much, that I can’t exactly pinpoint his emotions. I thought I knew who he was. The flirtatious, popular, laid back jock.

Yet the more I see into him, the more my opinion changes. And I don’t like that. Not being able to figure someone out. I use to be proud to not have to feel anyone’s emotions. Now, I feel as if I can’t see into them enough.

I get my boss to take the ladder back in and retreat to sweep the floors of a recently finished session.

I don’t understand why the high of that conversation felt stronger then the emotions I feel off those leaving the theater right now.


	7. The last time I wish we spoke (Year 1 Conclusion)

I spoke with him four times after that incident. Four times in an entire year. I wish it was half of that.

 

He came by to the cinema twice on my shifts. Both times with Nancy. Once in the Winter, and once in the summer. I can understand why they would not want to visit the cinema, but Nancy took his apology well enough. I made sure to make their popcorn the fresh stuff, and passed Nancy an extra snack.

“On the house” I winked at her, trying to come off as a handy school friend giving her a ‘perk of the job’ luxury. We were on good terms at school. We were in Chemistry together. And English. But honesty, I just wanted an excuse for them not to come back to the stall. I wanted me out of his thoughts. I wanted him to forget my crying, and forget my off-hand comments about his friend choice (although he did end up ditching them, and that made him all the better of a person).

We spoke once again in homeroom. On the account that Katie was, and he said he didn’t have time to finish up some homework.

“Y/n is a bloody home-schooled genius” Katie remarked, I almost died. She just had to bring attention to me, he just had to look up at me. 'I'm starting to hate those eyes.'

“Oh, that’s how you manage to doze off in classes and stay in the lead. You’ve learnt this already.”

Dozing off in class was not my original plan. But things, events, happened. In October, I started sleeping a lot more. Both in classes and at home, I was aiming to hibernate. And of course, my grades we as perfect as ever.

“Yeah, just hand over anything you want done. In a way I run a black-market homework trade.” How did I manage to stay calm in that sentence? Don't be _nice_ to him.

“Nancy would have my head if she knew I wasn’t studying.” He scratched the back of his head. a common habit of his, “But I would really owe you one if you could finish off this essay before final period”

_NO. Not for you._

I outstretched my hand as a signal for him to give me his work, then I comically flipped through his barely started essay, noting the handwriting I would have to copy.

“Consider it done” I smiled more at Katie then I did him, “And no, you _don’t_ owe me one.” I was screaming on the inside. You idiot. He didn't deserve your politeness.

 

* * *

 

 

The fourth time we talked, I wished I could have just shut my stupid mouth and left before anything happened. It was summer, again. The beginning of holidays. In-closing to a year of my being at Hawkins, and less than 3 months until my birthday. Set; a week or so after the Steve and Nancy cinema date.

This week was empty of events; Jay was in the midst of planning something for us, so we had to wait and see if his surprise would happen. And also wait for his response before planning anything else. I was left wondering if I had time this week to travel to another state. I also knew I wanted to pick up more shifts, bust my ass working so I could afford something nice. A car even. Or a plane ticket to Africa. Or a lobotomy...after this year’s events.

I decided to just ride around town, like I couldn’t last summer, with Rose trailing behind me. She brought a few classmates along. Two cute girls I’d expect her to be friends with. They were providing me with the happiness I could not muster up. The joy of biking in the Summer, free, with warm wind messing up our hair and scorching tarmac forcing us into footwear. I stopped by a little convenience store and got two ice creams and two icy poles. Of course, I stopped eating dairy because Rose usually felt left out. I know she enjoys the way I adapt for her. And anyways, I _was_ craving lemonade. Sweet, cold, sugary lemonade. The taste of a carnival on a hot summer day, a travelling circus visiting, string lights and bubbles, the stray scent of popcorn wavering in the wind. All I was missing was cotton candy, and that memory could almost become touchable.

When I handed them their treats, the girls happily took off across the road, bikes in tow towards the park. I laughed to myself at their lively attitudes, lingering behind, savoring the moment. A rare, purely happy moment. I felt a cold drip that caught my attention. The stick in my hand was already melting, my fingers coated in soda. I raised my hand to my mouth, quickly licking away the residue. I could not help thinking it felt a little too suggestive. My sucking too lewd. The dessert being a little too phallic. Oh where was my mind going? I didn't know, but I brought the frozen treat up to my lips, none the less thinking immodestly. I sucked the cold tip a little, before giving it a gentle lick. 

Lord, no, what was I doing. I wasn't even interested in- ugh. I scoff out loud at the obscene action, and quickly cross the road to meet up with my girls. Recently, I'm prone to doing stupid things. But surprising myself in a risqué action? Not a path I wanted to walk. 

My eyes were fixated on the girls, who were on the swings, faces sticky with dessert, laughing chaotically at being up way too high. As I approached the park I dumped my bike next to theirs, and unstuck my shirt from my skin. I was defiantly going to tan today.

The wind shifted, ruffling my hair, and I spotted him too late. Frozen in surprise, no internal alarm, nor dread that filled me to the core, could move me. In my own paralysis, I'd let him approach me. 

“Hey y/l/n, fancy seeing you here. Babysitting?” His voice was casual, as if we were closer then, well at best, acquaintances. He even _looked_ casual. I'd never seen him dressed down before; why was it a big deal I'd never seen him in a T-shirt? Why, in my two seconds of panic, did I also note the way sweat adorned his arms, and his hair looked adorable, void of product, and-

He looked too friendly. 

 As he drew near, I assessed the scene behind him. A couple kids from school were lounging on the other side of the playground, the way teenagers do; Not playing, but sitting and conversing. Probably waiting for a friend before, as a familiar nearby parked car indicated, taking off to their next destination. I also spot Nancy. The group wasn't exactly paying attention to us. Busy with something else.

I panicked. I panicked really hard. He didn’t know. He didn’t know I knew. He didn’t know I knew. He didn’t know I knew. _He didn’t know I knew. He didn’t know I knew. He didn’t know I knew._

“I’m sorry, Harrington.” I swallowed, holding onto whatever solidarity I had left. I was about to be a bitch. In all my life I'd never needed to get rid of someone's presence because...

I continue my sentence.

“We aren’t friends." I bluntly punctuate, "And I _really_ don’t want to act like we are. So, could you please just _stay away from me_.” I spit those last words out harshly. Not a question, a _demand_. I demanded for him to get the fuck out of my face. And I didn’t need to be an Empath to feel his surprise, and oddly, hurt. It was in his eyes. True, I had been nice to him before. I've served him at the cinema, done his homework once, let him off without a warning in the bathroom. I had been, in all ways nice. Almost like a friend. Almost like someone you could trust.

I turned quickly on my heel, and moved to my cousin, towards the swings, before he could say anything. A habit of mine; leaving before more words could be spoken. I'd have to make us leave now, ice cream finished or not. Suddenly, I was not in the mood for lemonade.

Steve shouldn't feel rejected, had his friends after all. He could just go back and pretend nothing happened. He could call be a bitch, or rude, or a rude bitch. It doesn't matter. If it got him to never talk to me again, he could write in red on the cinema for all my care.

He had a luxury I didn't. To pretend nothing happened.

Or, if he felt concerned about last October’s events, he could talk about what happened. With Nancy. And Johnathan. And those four middle school boys. And that cop.

 

* * *

 

 

I started sleeping a lot in October.

I wanted it to be all over.

How would I explain that things don’t remain secret to me for very long? Had anyone noticed me acting different after October? Did they notice I was a little off my game?

I'd wish to omit in my memories a lot of the 'stuff' that went down. I don't want to remember. I want to pretend it was all fine, and just a bout of depression.

It’s because I kick myself for not listening to my mind. I knew that feeling in the air wasn’t a hunch. It wasn’t paranoia.

I felt when the Demogorgon appeared. How inhuman it's emotions were. How I barely felt compatible to even feel what it was feeling. I’m an Empath after all. I can sense what humans and animals feel. I just didn’t think _monsters_ were also included in that. _Interdenominational monsters_.

I felt it when Will Byers went missing. How scared he was. The whole time he was in that other dimension. His echoing fear, it never left me.

I felt Barbara Holland die, and I could grasp how her murderer felt.

I felt the anger of the little girl, El.

 

I felt it all. Because it was too strong for me not to. I was scared, and confused, and really shaken. No fear I had ever felt in my entire life could accumulate to those days. I was alone, and lost. I had no one.

At first, I stole Aunt Mari’s car and drove to Indianapolis. I walked the streets of normal people. Leeching off the human emotions. Feeling safe, when I have never felt safe, in a city full of crowds. I could so easily read and relate to these strangers. Then, I realized how dumb I had been, and promptly, reluctantly, returned _home_. Well, after a walk around a proper shopping district.

Aunt Mari knew something had to be wrong. I wasn’t the type who just up and ran away. As soon as I tried to apologize, she told me she didn’t need it.

“All I want is for you to speak the truth Sweet Pea.” But oh boy, I don’t think she was expecting to hear what I sobbed into her arms.

So, in October, and some of November (Octember? Novtober? Can I somehow condense two months into one word?), I had a pill a day, sometimes even twice, and avoided going outside. I just slept as much as possible. I had to stay unconscious. I had to stop feeling.

Katie and Jay thought it might have been depression. I just told them I missed my parents.

“Don’t worry, it’s all fine.” My favourite lie.

After a month, my life went back to being _fine_. A very thin line of _fine_. I went straight into repressing those memories. Of fear and monsters. I was in all the ways hoping I could just forget about the whole ordeal. Pretend it didn’t change my life in some way. I was use to the paranormal, right?

But I did change. It showed in small ways. I basically yelled at Steve that I never wanted to see his face near me. A face that had confronted a creature I had unwittingly connected to. A creature I was only sure existed in my nightmares. I'd have probably yelled at anyone involved in the incident. I hated them, if only indirectly. They at least had each other to confide it. It was _their_ secret. It wasn't suppose to suddenly be mine too. 

 

 I have thought about it before, my first year in Hawkins was nothing special. Just dramatic. Because I was not actually in the line of fire was I? I didn't actually get involved. I avoided all confrontation. I slept through October. I was on suppressants. I had friends at school, two of them being extra amazing, they made life a little perkier. And, I wasn't alone in the house. My two family members, who may not have understood fully, still hugged me through nights I cried.

 

_**It was the second year in which my life really took a turn.** _


	8. Life is Fun- Not (Year 2)

On an unusually warm August evening, the type that makes you dive deeper into your wardrobe because you had already pushed aside the shirts for sweaters, I was again finding myself in a daze. The hazy beginnings of a sunset reflected in my eyes, pink and orange hues starting to blend into the light blue. A flock of birds were making their way home, and the moon was in a perfect position, what I use to refer to as a Cheshire cat smile. Ice cream still lingered on my lips, and I breathed in the warm breeze, filling my lungs with another world; one in a forest hidden Latvian camp, where I had participated in the most intense game of hide-and-seek a child could have competed in.

As I lay spread out on a blanket; basking in the remaining sunlight of my Aunt Mari’s backyard; lucidly daydreaming as I gazed at the drifting clouds- _I found myself not wanting summer to end_.

It might have been between the tickling feeling of my cousin Rose, using a knew brush to carefully paint floral patterns on my bare legs; between the faint song of a vinyl playing in the house as Mari worked on her next project, only accented by the soft wind-chimes on the porch when the breeze gently swayed them. In between this tranquil, peaceful evening, that held a calm I had not experienced in months, an evening when the events of this past year seemed so far away that I would not be able to reach it, silence was broken.

A loud car roared down the road, ruining the moment, and I psychically jerked up, surprised into full consciousness. Like falling asleep too fast, and your body believes the rapid slowing of breath and movement might be death, so it jolts you awake, just in case.

Rose yelps in surprise as my leg moves, smearing a line of pink across my knee. I seem dazed, as if I had just exited a dream. A reality where everything was fine. A reality that had been true until last year. 

I find myself staring blankly at my 15 years old cousin’s confused face.

“Y/n?” She asks, “Hey, you good there?” She waves her hand in front of my eyes, “You suddenly look very lost. Feeling something bad?”

No, I wasn’t feeling anything bad. The car is gone, I have no neighbors close enough (yes, the old woman next door, the one who's life I incidentally saved, had moved over the New Year. And her house hasn’t been taken. Surprise). No one was walking around this far of Hawkins, it wasn't an extraordinarily exciting area.

It was really just us; The concentration of Mari, and the gentle emotions of Rose.

No, I was _remembering_ something bad. That's what happened.

“I don’t want to go back to school.” I eventually sigh, lying back down, not even sure if I have to return to High School. When I turn 18 in two weeks, I could move back to Europe. Many countries see 18 as legal adulthood. I could live with a family we’ve bumped into before, or, with my newfound saving’s from the cinema, I could buy a van, or rent. I didn’t have to see Hawkins, feel Hawkins, ever again.

Mari hates that idea.

She has two good reasons to. One is my continuing problem of not passing through Empath Maturity. I keep taking suppressant pills, delaying the onset evolution of my mind.

But the second reason she has found even more important. Last year’s events.

I hate Hawkins’s for not being normal. For not letting me live without casualties and incidents and, so conscientiously, monsters.

I broke down in tears last year, telling Mari how I felt all the horror happening in the town. How I even ended up  _connected_ with that _thing_. Though I know its name, though I know _everyone’s_ name, I refuse to bring those details up in my mind. It's as if I fear thinking too loudly, that if I concentrate on it too hard, it will return.

I was emotionally a witness to the whole of the event; of course an Empath would recognize who was involved. I know everything. As an outsider, that feel’s wrong, and also lonely. So, having my aunt as a support bracket was, to be honest, uplifting. 

She did at first think of sending me out of the state, but then I regrettably told her there was no more demonic entity scuttling around anymore, nothing messing with my mental state. It was taken as a sign that this was a one time occurrence. I didn’t _really_ think so, but for convenience sake we wished for it to be true.  Sending me out to Europe would defeat my purpose of being here for an 'official education', which I still find bullshit. My reason for staying is, mainly, that it would separate me from my new family all too soon.

My parents had a very long discussion on the phone about this. We drove out to the nearest city, just for a secure phone line, because we are now pretty sure Hawkins’s phone lines are tapped. And since I told my Aunt about the little psychic girl, she really doesn’t trust anyone figuring out about me. I’m the opposite of a lab rat. I’ve been as free as a bird since birth. I might be dead within weeks in captivity.

“No one likes going back to school” Rose shrugs, “As your last year you should feel grateful.”

“Are you excited to finally join the High School building?” I change the subject, concentrating on a particular dissipating cloud.

“It’s _just_ a building. With the same old jerks as always”, she scoffs, painting on the pink line I accidentally created.

She’s right. The same old jerks as always.

It brings back painful memories of yelling at Harrington two months ago. I hate myself for being so abrupt and honest. For tearing down a nice greeting with a stay-the-fuck-away-from-me scowl. He is someone with emotions I can’t pin point, frustratingly. And someone my age who I could have talked to about last October. But how would I even explain that I knew? We aren’t at all close enough for me to tell him I’m an Empath. Not even Katie or Jay know. It’s literally just family, and that one woman who provided me with the herbal ingredients for my suppressant pills; who I am sure is some kind of psychic herself.

It also hurts that I’ll have to sit in homeroom with him. Katie likes to chat with Harrington sometimes, I wonder if I’ll tell her that we had a fight or something so that I can’t be dragged into any more of their conversations. Or do his homework again. Besides, he’s got Nancy for that. I shouldn’t care.

“Yeah, I think I’m just still a little shaken from last year.” She knows what I’m talking about. “And I’ve been procrastinating heaps on summer homework.”

“That’s so easy for you to not worry about, the work is too easy for you.”

“Well,” I sigh again. “Someone _might_ have told a teacher that. I was given some accelerated work instead. I actually have to study, just like everyone else.” Rosemary makes a face at that.

“Life is becoming really unfair recently.” She pouts, pulling her hand away from her handiwork. “Hold still, I’ll grab the Polaroid”

It’s not hard to hold still, I’m soaking up probably the last warm day of the season. The heat of the sun falls upon my figure, like a blanket, and I practically melt into it. Melting, like that icy pole....

A warm breeze is suddenly pushing against my skin, it feels heavy, and it reminds me of an all too familiar, too foreign feeling. Of ragged, heated breath. On the skin of two teenagers, making out in the girl’s bathroom. Of an Empath girl struggling with someone’s else’s panic attack, crying, shaking and suffocating, while simultaneously being shoved into the most intense feeling of lust she had experienced. Of course, that was me. The girl who never gave lust a thought.

A strangled groan escaped my lips, almost pained at the memory. The sound pulling me into the land of the living.

“Got the camera!” Rose runs outside, through the open French doors, thankfully distracting me further. “We have got to start taking that scrapbook seriously.” She states, taking a few pictures of her painting on my legs, I try pose them aesthetically.

“Yeah we probably should” I say absent-minded, thinking about our dried flower crowns, summer movie tickets, and collected bird feathers. “Something that reminds us of happier days, yeah?”

“Totally.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _On cue_. My life is on _fucking cue._ And I have pure terror running through my veins.

It’s around 4 in the morning, and I’m puking my guts out. _Again_. On my birthday. _Again_.

My 18th year on this earth is, really, starting off brilliantly.

The same cold floor, the same toilet bowl, a different pyjama though. That really is irrelevant, but I’m trying to focus on anything I can as my mind spirals out of control . It’s stronger then last year. Way stronger. Defiantly the result of avoiding the inevitable. The build up of an unavoidable event.

Instead of Aunt Mari by the door, this time, it is Rose. And she is defiantly not as calm as her mother. I've rarely seen her panic, it's unnerving to see her wide-eyed and unsure. 

“Call your mom _please_ ” I choke out, tears blurring my vision, and my body absolutely exhausted. I almost feel drunk, my limbs barely responding to me, my mind whirling through thoughts.

Rose nods, leaving the water cup next to me, and rushes over to the phone. Over the line, my Aunt is working out of state. Her job is a mix of freelance architect and landscaper. She has also written a book about gardening. Not like that matters either. What matters is no adult is in this house right now. 

“Panic attack” was the code-word over the possibly tapped Hawkins line. Panic attack meant worst case scenario; my Empath maturity was reaching unstoppable levels.

I abruptly hear the sound of running, the fridge door being opened, and rattling through the draws inside. Rose came running back to me, the rest of my pills in her hand. I was running low on them, but I was taking the normal dosage of one every other day. I wasn’t taking the breaks like I did last year. I was supposed to be at normal low levels. Was my body finally rejecting them? Could it even do that?

“Mum says try swallowing them all” Rose utters hastily. And I have no complaints.

I take the handful of pills and shove them in my mouth, swallowing them with a few swigs of water.

We wait a silent 10 minutes. Afterwards. It’s actually so silent, I can hear my own heartbeat, hammering in my rib cage.

 

* * *

 

 

I don’t feel sick. I clean up my vomit mess, and sit with Rose on the living room couch. I don’t know what my body is going to do. I’m worried. Aunt Mari, although awoken in the night, stays on the line. Another ten minutes pass, and I think we are finally in the clear.

But that’s when it happens. Of course is does.

I've never been shot in the head. But if I was to guess at the pain, it was like taking a bullet to the skull, fragments of bone exploding and splintering. My brain being ripped and turned to mush.

A scream, so highly pitched that I cannot believe was my own voice producing it, ripped violently from my throat. I fell to the floor; pain raked then continued it's path through my body, like a lightning bolt, electric and burning. I felt as if my entire being shattered, like glass. Like I was being torn in different directions by an invisible force. I’m thrown into immense thoughts and emotions, coming from the whole town, experiencing thousands of minds in seconds, before being yanked back into my own body. Then I lost the ability to breathe, and collapsed to the floor, shaking.

The cold, hard floor. Like a final resting place. I layed still, too pained to move.

“Mum,” Rose whispered into the phone, “Her panic…" She didn't know how to phrase it. " _Broke_ something. But it’s all OK now.” She is so scared, as I nodded, tears in my eyes. “She is feeling better.” I _wasn’t_. It just meant that I was alive, and I didn’t faint. I wish I did. Once she hung up the phone, I was sobbing.

“It’s like something broke all my protective walls” I hyperventilated, “I felt _everyone._ ”

Silence. The room I was in was deafening, but my head was louder then a hurricane.

“What about right now?” She asked softly, unsure of the situation.

“...Someone is crying” I sniff, “Someone _really_ far away.” I didn’t stop focusing on that singular point, “I don’t know what I’m doing.” I confessed.  “I feel like going downhill on a bike really fast. As long as I stay balanced, upright, I won’t wobble. And fall.” I turn to her, another sob echoes in the room,

 “I don’t know what the fall will be; I don’t want to move.”

 

_I can’t stop focusing on a singular person, because I’m terrified that if my power’s shift, I could spiral out of control._


	9. A bonfire/The Arcade/Pizza?? (Year 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is around when the timeline goes a little askew ;P   
> It doesn't matter but like ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There are moments in life when something so unbelievable, so unpredictable happens, that one tends to do nothing at all. Maybe that would be a full brain shut down, ignoring a problem, or going with the flow through extreme dissociation. Well, I believe I chose to do all three. Rose followed suit.

 

It might have sounded anti-climactic, or undramatic, but after that night of my ‘snap’, we played it off as something that ‘ _just happened_ ’.

Because I stayed silent for about an hour, a terrible hour, a still hour. An hour where I was poking around my brain, shifting through my Empathy, figuring out “ _what now_?”

And then my empty stomach rumbled, bringing me back to life. As though it wasn’t 5am, as though I did not notice that the sun was still below the horizon, that birds were still sleeping, and that Rose had taken up reading beside me, not wanting me to be up alone. A perfect time, my spinning mind told me, for tea and pancakes. I retracted my abilities as much as I could, surprising myself that I was successful in doing so.

“Are you hungry?” I horsey asked Rose, not actually waiting for a response as I stood up to enter the kitchen. “It’s my birthday after all, and I want chocolate chip pancakes”

Rose was surprised that I had gone from statue, to a kid up early on their birthday. But her confused face gave into a smile.

“Sound great.” It came out as a whisper. We were both acting. Acting like everything was fine, waiting for a bomb to drop. Because maybe, if we pretended everything was fine, everything would be. Because if I’m not a convulsing mess on the ground, exploding brains around me, then maybe this won’t be a big problem. Then we can actually ignore whatever I go through.

 

* * *

 

 

It just means I’m going to be extra sensitive…. _right?_ Not that the morning vomiting gives me that hope. But nothing has happened in an hour, nothing bad. This shouldn’t be longer then…. A few months maybe. Aunt Mari has the car, and she won’t be back for a couple weeks. Not until school starts. I am not in a position to leave Rose alone.

And part of me is scared of travel right now. Plus, it is my _birthday_ today, I want to enjoy it.

And we do.

We eat those pancakes. We make a card box castle in the living room. We bake a cake and to my surprise, Jay drives over with Katie, present in tow. I manage to pretend I’m fine, feeling every emotion in their bodies, but biting my cheek to manage. We end up having a sleepover, rolling out an old barrel to use as a fire pit in the backyard.

“Come on Jay, King of the Sun, major in Arsonism, get the fire going!” Katie jokingly shouts, Queen of the Moon, impatient, nursing a cup of hot cocoa Rose made for everyone (ala Almond Milk, not that anyone noticed. I am still amazed by this girl’s survival as a lactose intolerant in a dairy filled world.)

“You guys have _such_ a view of the stars here.” Katie awes, looking up at the sky, “Considering, you are the Star Queen, so maybe it’s just cheating” she winks.

I made up those titles as jokes last year, in a stoke of comedy and poetry. But now, they sort of suit us. Especially since, like the stars, I feel torn across the universe, millions of light years apart. And Katie and Jay started dating over the summer. That may or may not have been me, who did try amplifying their attraction to each other when we hung out. They might’ve done it by themselves, much later. But the two are so shy about their feelings, I was just trying to give them the extra shove. And to be honest, they’ve been happier ever since.

 A lot happened over the summer. The 'surprise' trip we took out of town to visit Jay’s Uncle’s lake house (which was by Lake Michigan, I have pledged my alliance to that place, such an epic week), my amazing mishaps and funny stories from cinema work, a few concerts, me using my driving skills to do a few donuts and adding skid marks to some roads (Jay and Katie were completely ecstatic about it), a lot more skating and biking, Jay helping me dye Katie’s hair pink which stained my hands for a week, lots of shopping trips, Rose going to sleepovers; Normal summer stuff. Nothing to talk about _really_.

The fire finally started, I was being cheeky not helping him out (my fire skills are admirable, if I do say so myself) and we all sit back on our fold out chairs, radio playing some random tunes, blankets over our shoulders. It is a beautiful moment. I can’t help sap in the happiness everyone is feeling. I know, in this moment, I have more trust in Katie and Jay then I have in anyone else who isn’t family.

All that being said, I need…. them to know. Just in case school goes haywire. Just in case something goes horribly wrong, and Rose, or Aunt Mari aren’t around. Just in case something happens, and I have to explain then and there, no warning, screaming in pain, or laughing in hysteria, or crying in despair.

“I have to tell you guys a secret.” My voice is unstable, I begin staring at the stars, trying to pick out constellations. Avoiding their eyes

  _Aquila, Cygnus, Hercules._

“It’s really important for you guys to know this, and believe me, it’s really hard for me to tell you this…”

 _Lyra. Ophiuchus_.

“But I trust you two.”

_Sagittarius. Scorpius._

“You lost your virginity!” Katie gasps, making a horrified face, though mockingly, I _can’t believe_ that was her first thought. “What no?” She turns to Jay, “Just trying to cross off worst case scenario.” He nods, agreeing that it was indeed, 'the worst case scenario'.

_Really?_

“How is that worst case scenario?” I say in disbelief, any tension left dead in the air, “And I’d never admit it in front of Rose.” As a point out my still very young cousin, Rose just shrugs, suddenly more interested in her Cocoa.

“ _Worst case scenario,_ because the only person you should lose your virginity to one of those hot Romanian’s you’ve talked about. I mean, if you lost it to some _Hawkins’s kid."_ She makes it a point to mimic a puking face, "Ugh, it would give me reason to mourn.” She sighs dramatically, “Unless it was a threesome with-“

“ _Why,_ ” I cut her off, “and in what universe, did I expect you to be serious about this?” She just shrugs innocently, Jay stifling his laughter. I’m not even sure she was joking about that threesome.

“I’m a fucking Empath, bro, I ain’t got time for teenage hormones.” I groan into my hands.

“A what?” Jay questions, I’ve caught his attention.

“An Empath. I have the paranormal ability to perceive the mental or emotional state of other individuals.” I recite from a dictionary, “From day one on earth, I’ve been able to feel what other people and animals feel.”

“Serious?” Katie is finally focused, “Like, not pulling our legs here, yeah?”

“I knew you had a crush on Jay from that moment in Drama when he said ‘worth it’ after face-planting in an effort to impress you. And Jay, well, I’m pretty sure it was the moment Katie arrived all dishevelled and late for class, and when the teacher asked why she was late, she said ‘I needed to pray to god for strength to get me through this class.’ He didn’t even bother with detention.”

“That was when?” Katie looked scandalized, “What about my retelling of when I almost set fire to my bedroom in an attempt to iron and do my homework at the same time?”

“I mean, maybe. I was drugged up the first five weeks of school.” I shrugged, “It was some powerful stuff my aunt got me, I wasn’t Empathetic for the start of school so I couldn’t tell what people were feeling. It was a relief. I had never been around so many teens before. I would have probably cried every time I passed a girl on her period.” I looked around the illuminated faces of my best friends, warm glow of the fire easing my tension, “But there is a reason I’m telling you two.”

“So, you really have powers?”

“Yes, Katie.” I try not to make eye contact, “And I recently ran out of suppressants for said powers. They were stopping me from going into a cycle called Empath Maturity. Basically, puberty for my powers. And I am really, really, out of control with them. I don’t know what can happen, and what will happen, and how long it will be.” I take a deep breath, “I just need you two to know, so that when something goes wrong at school, I can trust you two to help. And if you two start feeling emotions that aren’t yours, well…” I stop, forming my words. I don’t have that much to say, at the same time, I want to run through my whole life story.

“You can blame it on me.”

 

* * *

 

“Is it too loud in here?” Katie questions me, testing if I am out of my comfort zone, “And I mean people’s heads, not the screaming kids.”

Katie and Jay had taken my Empath abilities in stride, especially when I hooked Katie up with Rose’s emotions, which are apparently natural ‘anti-depressants’. In all honesty I agree. And like the amazing people they are, they decided to help me out with getting use to my Maturity. We visited a city Mall, they went to a Cinema shift of mine, they accompanied me for grocery shopping, they jump scared me a few times (it is weird to push your shock into someone else. Jay started screaming back before we both laughed off the results. I am not at all good with surprise attacks). Now they decided to take me along with them, and Rose, to the arcade. I’m not really a fan, neither is Rose, so we didn’t go all summer. But for our resident couple, it’s quite a popular past time.

“Well it is defiantly loud,” I say strained, pretending it’s manageable. It really isn’t, children’s emotions are very rapid and hard to follow. It’s like I’m on drugs. “But I’m finding it easier to centre on calm emotions. The arcade guy is so apathetic, I think I’ll be good.”

“Great to hear.” Jay steps in, wrapping his arms around us both, smirking “Because I’m about to steal Katie away for a serious one on one battle. Loser treats us all to pizza”

“Oh, it’s on, don’t underestimate a broke bitch” Katie waves to me, going off to battle.

“I don’t really feel like playing anything.” Rose makes an uncomfortable face. I understand her boredom. I’m the exact same.

“Well, I did take the Polaroid, so we can add to our scrapbook. And it's not against the was for us to give a few of these games a try. Remember, me and you are not here to play, Jay and Katie are.” I take out the Polaroid. “Let’s find a few views.”

I took enough change to keep her entertained. I'm guessing, knowing Jay, we only have to wait half an hour. I’m pretty sure now that pizza is on the menu, we will be leaving sooner. And of course, Jay is the only one with a car right now.

I focus through everyone’s emotions, the excitement of winning a game, the concentration, the frustration, the complete rage, and of course, how it feels for all those to mix. It’s quite a long half hour. I can’t imagine having to deal with this for a few months. It’s like I can’t block out anyone’s emotions. But so far, I haven’t acted upon them.

“Hey, they use to be in my building.” Rose says, pointing to a pack of boys that are huddled around a game together. I instantly go cold, breaking into goose bumps. My heart should not be racing like this. “Oh, I felt you do that.” Rose jumps, rubbing her arms, “Are they the boys from October?”

“Yes.” I breathe out, hopelessly wishing to trade my powers for shape-shifting, or invisibility. Which is a little unneeded, since they don’t know I know. They don’t know what hell I had to live through; their hell that they dragged me into. And of course, it was not their fault. But when you have to feel the emotions of a monster, when you have to learn about secrets by having them directly streamed into your brain, I think you would also just hate everyone involved.

Or maybe I’m just selfish.

“I want to say hi, we use to hang out some times at recess. I didn’t know that THEY were the boys.” She looks more excited than annoyed or shocked, “You don’t have to come along.”

“I want to.” I say, spur of the moment, “Why not meet a resurrected boy, and monster fighters?” I really mean, I want to know what sort of people they are. It’s the same feeling of knowing someone’s secret identity, and they don’t know you do. My little secret. “Let’s go.”

So here are the four boys in question, still Middle Schoolers, and looking younger up closely. Considering their emotions felt rather grown up. I do have to remember that, although the entire town went into panic mode, I did know Will wasn’t dead. Something he probably gets bullied for. I felt his terror, amplified by that other dimension. Another reason for my hibernation in October. I didn’t have to feel this kid, scared out of his brains, when I was unconscious. 

“Boo.” Rose nudges one of them jokingly, “Hiya Dustin” The curly haired boy turns to her, a toothy grin spread in recognition.

“Heyy, Rose. I didn’t think you liked Arcades.” He replies, a hint of admiration. Come to think of it, she was quite a face in her Middle school. Not just the cousin of an alien new girl. But she was known for being a good spirit, smart, a student to look up. Also, quite the couple maker. Her leaving the building may have been a loss for the Middle Schoolers.

“No, we are just waiting for y/n’s friends to finish their game, loser has to buy Pizza. But they’ve been playing _forever_.” She rolled her eyes.

“Palace put in a lot of new games this Summer.” He puts in, giving me a quick glance, “And we’re trying to get number one on everything.” That made sense, since all his friends looked super preoccupied, cheering on who I assume is Lucas.

“Good luck with that.” she says earnestly, “I see the summer also gave you new teeth.” We hear a groan from behind Dustin.

“ _Don’t remind him._ ” Says the boy in question, who I defiantly recognize as Nancy’s younger brother, “That's all he talks about now.” That earns us a tongue roll from Dustin, I find it akin to Chewbacca. Rose find’s it hilarious, and Mike rolls his eyes for what I assume is the hundredth time his friend pulled this stunt.

“I didn’t get to say bye to you.” Dustin continues, after Rose’s laughter quietens down, “You’re going to High school now, Middle School is going to miss you.” I am suddenly reminded she was also a driving force against bullies. No hesitation in smacking someone for being mean, or even more creative ways of revenge. Stuff she might not get away with in High.

“Awww, my heart.” She jokes, “I’m sure you’ll all manage. I mean, I’m the one at the bottom of the food chain now.”

“And I’m at the _top_.” I remind her, gaining their attention, “We better cause a little hell in my final year.”

“Hey I know you, you work at the cinema” Mike remarks, the other boys seeming to finish this game a little disappointed. “You go to class with my sister?” I roll my eyes

“Yeah, classes with Nancy, homeroom with her precious Steve, _it’s as bad as you think_.”

“You don’t have to live through the half of it” He agrees, we take a moment to chuckle at our shared pain.

The moment is over soon, as I’m suddenly feeling victory on the other half of the room. Dinner is coming soon.

“Great to meet you two, I have to check on our victor.” I say, turning to Rose, “Wait here for a bit?” She nods, and I take off to the other side of the Arcade. I see a widely grinning Katie and instantly know the results.

“Happy much?” I throw at her.

“She plays dirty.” Jay informs me, not letting his pride die.

“I just wanted to eat, I didn’t think that would take us 7 rounds and half an hour to decide!” she cries, grabbing hold to his hand, “Time. To. Go.”

We walk back, catching Rose on the way, waving to the boys on their quest. I actually didn't hate the experience of meeting them. They definitely recovered from the event better then me. 

We are out the door before Jay gasps in surprise.

“I left my jacket back in there.”

“I’ll get it” I volunteer, pushing my Polaroid into his hands, “You get the car heated up.”

I rush back inside, aiming for the back of the arcade again. Back into the bright lights, funny pixilated screens; The rush of emotions comes flooding back, and I push through the haze. I quickly spot the black jacket on the ground, forgotten in the dark of the room. Thankfully, that was easy. When I turn around, I am suddenly struck with a familiar feeling in the messy atmosphere.

A terror. A fear. A power. The fear I was running from all October. It wasn’t back, it couldn’t be.

I speed walk out of the Place Arcade, only to find the young boy, the one that got lost last year, Will, outside.  And he’s the one I’m feeling this from. It’s emitting from him, a paranormal chill, something terrible. I want him to stop, so bad. I don’t want to breathe in more of this toxic air. I touch him, and feel a sharp physical snap. It makes both of us jump, as if a force pushed us. And my panic rises.

“ _What_ did you see?” I strain the question out, meeting wide, searching eyes of a young boy. He doesn’t get a chance to answer my question. Mike interrupts us; and I don’t even catch his words as I speed back to the car, abandoning the conversation, my grip on Jay’s jacket turning my knuckles white.

This was not good.


	10. Wiser words, Dumber Actions (Year 2)

I use to be a morning person; The sunrise would bring me another day of adventure. I'd wake with the birds and the trees and the sky. In any situation, be it a camp, tent city, caravan, lodge or gypsy dwelling- everyone I was around would wake at day break. The dawn held a special time in my life.

It has only been ruined since my arrival in this town.

“ _Let’s just stay home_ ”

I groan into the pillow, as Rose shakes me awake for the fourth time. “I’m your _senior_ , I can tell you what to do.” I could also just death grip Rose into my bed and force us both to miss school. Maybe a little bit cruel, but no one would rescue her. Though I probably would get bitten in the process.

“Is it because of what you felt at the arcade? Because I swear, school isn’t harboring a monster. The only monster I’ve heard of is the Math teacher.”

“I quit school.” I cover myself with blankets. “I’m moving to Spain.” Sweet sunny Spain. Barcelona this time of year barely has rain, and I would enjoy the luxury of beach days and warm winds. I am yet to familiarize myself with the Fahrenheit system. I let my Celsius upbringing out all the time, confusing my fellow classmates. 

So, in my gorgeous Spain, August's beautiful 30°C day would be....? 86°F yes. Well I would love some 86°F days again. Hawkins doesn't stand a chance.

“That actually sounds like a plan” She contemplates for a second. I don't think Rose has even been on a plane before, and by all means when she grows up, I have many places to take her.

“But also sounds like running away from him.”

Those words escape her mouth absentmindedly. _Him?_ We weren't even talking about a boy, there is no _him_. I was not the only one who saw this comment abnormal, and suddenly Rose is filled with surprise, throwing the covers off me in an attempt of distraction.

“Wait, from _who?_ ” I squint at the sunlight streaming through the slated window shades, the clearness of today, the sound of the kettle in the kitchen. Another normal morning without Aunt Mari, we have to wait for Jay to pick us up. So, if one person in our carpool is late, then we all are late. Or we can all chuck a sickie, but that would be counterproductive. I can't be skipping classes, especially on the first day. I need to save up my absences, play them out. Use them for mini holidays.

“Uhh” Rose is caught in her mishap, and I could swear, that if she became anymore frozen, I would have to auction her off as a statue. I'm sure she could be confused for a Greek Goddess. “From... him. The little boy, uh, Will.”

Blatant lie. But it’s to early to argue about this. If Rose thought it was important, she would say so.

I roll out of bed.

“A whole two weeks of getting ready for this and I’m still nervous.” I groan, “At least tell me you made breakfast.” She shakes her head. I am really _not_ having a good morning.

“Right. You get dressed, I make lunch and toast. We rush out the door because Jay’s gonna be here in like 20.”

 

When Jay get’s here, we switch seats. I’m always the driver. Mostly because this far out of town, I can get in a few car stunts to get everyone in an excitable mood, and also because I get us to school fast enough to keep from being late, which we are always teetering the line of. At my last donut, wheels sliding over the abandoned road, Katie speaks up.

“To our final year!” Her hand holding up a morning ginger beer for toasting. If this was another country, I could legally be drinking beer. But that doesn’t matter, it’s the thought of a cold drink that counts.

“I doubt it’s going to be less disastrous then our last.” Jay takes a sip from him bottle, settling back into his seat, holding a drink out to Rose, “But that just means it's gonna be all the more memorable, am I right?” He shifts his head to face the backseat, and accepts a kiss from Katie with a satisfactory hum. My two lovebirds together for their final year of school. I can only hope exams won't tear apart my hard work of couple making.

“You know what you’re aiming to do?” I ask, both to Katie and Jay. "After finishing school, that is."

“Not stay in Hawkins, that’s for sure.” Katie retorts, taking a sip of soda, before reaching her hand out to correct a stray piece of my hair.

"Aww, thanks." I cooed, "But shouldn't you be more worried about fixing Boyfie's hair?"

"HOPELESS CASE!" She scoffs, “ _Anyways_ , as I was saying. I'd probably move to Portland with Jay, he plans on starting an apprenticeship with his brother-in-law. I’ll take any college near their place.”

“Y/n, you’re probably going back to your folks, yeah?” Jay asks, trying to fix his offended hair in the passenger mirror. I nod.

“Yup. Out of America all the way. I’d love to join them in Africa. Maybe take up Katie’s suggestion on a Romanian hottie. Maybe I really will take up the Gypsy life. Or the Swiss Alps. Just… Out of civilization.”

“You should consider a job that helps people with your Empath Abilities.” Shrugs Katie, “A Detective, a Councillor, Teacher, maybe an Artist or Writer.”

“Haven’t left those options shut...” I trail off, coming towards the school gates, in-taking the bumbling emotions of the new school year, and lucking out on a good parking spot.

"No. I have an idea. Man, you gotta go for President, collect as many psychic powered people as possible, and start a full on takeover." Jay narrates enthusiastically, hand outstretched as if he could touch the future. " _Revolution_." All eyes trained on him.

"Then what, we have telekinetic people running America?" Rose raises an eyebrow. Jay shrugs.

"Or any country. Maybe make her own republic? It would be so cool-"

"It'd be a bloodbath." I sigh, loudly interrupting his creative idea. I stare out the windshield, never taking my eyes off the chain link fence in front of me. "We are a 1 in a million rarity. And many cultures, many people, have slaughtered or exploited those with powers. It'd be a war."

"Shit." A cloud of black seemingly filling the car, I brought on a dark topic.

"I'm sorry it's just.." I shrug, "People are afraid of the different. Even if no one knew a person with abilities, if it went public that they were possible, everyone would be suspicious of each other. I mean, how invasive is Empathy, or Telepathy?"

"Yo if you had telepathy that would be sick!" Katie, our savior, managing to find a way out of this downer of a topic. "I mean, just saying, I would use you to pull off so many pranks, it's become a lucrative business."

"Oh my gawd, you wouldn't actually? And heck, I'd hate to hear inside teenagers heads!" I stifle my laughter. The horror.

"Oh come on, big surprise it's usually sex, murder and that one song you can't get out of your head for days. The real mystery is; what goes on inside Jay's head."

"Uhh, food, sleep, you in lingerie." He says in a matter-of-fact jest, "I'm not an mysterious man. As and you shall know. Though Rose..." We all turn our attention to the little minx, silent in the corner.

"Accuse me of whatever you want, none shall foil my murder plans!" 

We all laugh manically, this morning took ten different turns, I'm just enjoying the hectic mess of it all.

All four of our dumb asses almost missed hearing the warning bell. I was yet to take the key's out of the ignition. 

 

* * *

 

 

Inside we all split. Well, I’m still in the same homeroom as Katie and Jay, Rose isn’t. So, we all give her a farewell, and make plans to regroup at lunch.

But when we walk into that room, amusement of the morning still whirling around in my head, I am instantly reminded of why I was dreading this morning. It's just as Rose said.

 _Him_.

I’ve been avoiding him; forgetting him, pretending he didn’t exist. But as soon as I see Steve Harrington in the corner of my eye, as soon as I’m connected with his emotion of excitement as he chats with a friend in the corner of the room (Now well dressed; unlike the summer. Now clean clothes and smooth skin and styled hair and that nice denim jacket.. _.irrelevant, y/n, irrelevant!_ ). The moment all this happens; I remember. All the repressed memories over the summer come flooding back in. And of course Rose knew my dilemma, she was at the park wasn't she? She saw how I yelled at him, how I rushed to take us out to another part of town. I've never said it out loud, but she's probably guessed his involvement in the 'October Fiasco'.

I'm not great caught off guard, as we had tested over the past few weeks. My shock of this 'ambush' forces it's way into Katie, who turns quizzically back to me. At least she recognized the feeling as foreign.

I whisper harshly in her ear as we approach our unassigned-assigned seats. 

“Look, I had a fight with Steve over the Summer.” She doesn’t know about the October events, I can’t tell her why I don’t like him. I just need her to understand that it's essential to stay ten feet away from him at all times. Much less, closer then we are going to have to be in a High school. Though no physical contact can compare to the intimacy of being in someone's mind- ugh-  not like there's anything I can do about it. I can control physical distance, and that should effect mental distance.

“The heck?” Katie hastily whispers back, barely moving her face, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. “What in the heck about?”

“Nothing important. But I’m not talking to him again. So please don’t follow me up on it.” We seat ourselves. “Pass it on to Jay.”

The bell rings as she conveys the message to Jay, looking as confused as she was, but nodding. It is certainly unusual for me to be in disagreement with someone . I’ve never really fought with anyone here. Low profile? Not really. All my fights have been either quick and physical, or in the sporting sense. And a prank or twelve. I haven’t verbally yelled. Maybe a clap back or two. But…nothing this permanent. And especially with Harrington, someone I never talk to. 

And of course, in Steve’s eyes, I did it out of the blue. No warning. Just went off. Because of course; he doesn’t know I know.

 We make eye contact once, after roll call. It is the most damaging thing to feel his pain and confusion, if only amplified, that I tear my eyes off him and go to sketching on my schedule as a distraction. We weren’t even friends in the first place. Why is he taking it so personally?

 

Nothing interesting actually happens all day. I do have fingernail marks all over my hands though. The emotions I feel are so much more amplified then last year, it's like blasting music in class. I have a very hard time concentrating. Lunchtime is a savior, and I practically fall into Rose’s arms.

“I fucking hate this.” I fake sob.

“No, you don’t.” She pushes me off, “Someone else is probably negative as heck right now. What did you just finish?”

“Chemistry” I say, “Easy. Doesn’t matter. How were your first hours in High?”

“Egh. Everybody in my year level is trying to act all high and mighty. I’m over it.”

“Well” Jay says, “I have my brains leaking after Math thank you.”

“You aren’t that dumb.” Katie snickers, debating suddenly, “Oh wait he might be. Y/n, transfer your smarts into Jay!” I reach out and touch his forehead.

“He’s a hopeless case, unfortunately.” I say in mock horror, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

We settle into our usual banter, Rose smiling as she sees I put in an extra cookie for her lunch today.

“OK you have to spill. A fight with Harrington?” Jay brings up, I sigh.

“Look, its actually not a big deal. That boy is just so emotional. I hate being near him. And he started moving into friend territory, I had to stop him.”

“You screamed it into his face though.” Rose reminds me, “Now you have to deal with that.”

"Yeah, I think I'm just _fine_ with the repercussions." I lie. I didn't know trying to cut Steve off would make his emotions louder. My plan backfired exponentially, but they can't know that.

"He might've been a good ally in your social status." Katie elbows me, "Get away from us losers."

"Y/n's loser status can _never_ be redeemed." Rose gravely sobs, "I've tried and failed."

“You have other friends in this school to be snarky with.” I huff at her. The sun's a little too low for my liking, it makes me squint to see her face. 

“They are all too busy acting like newly hatched birds.” She protests.

"And we're all vultures?" 

"Seriously." Katie nudges Jay, "People watch for like 3 seconds, she's onto something."

 

We spend an afternoon laughing at the new school year.

 

* * *

 

 

Quick summery of the first morning something changes. Start of September.

We got to school, and I was instantly surprised by a new feeling. A new person that was not at all emotionally incognito,

“Holy shit, guys take a look at whoever just pulled in. They are a mess of rage and crazy”

“Who? Jay says, everyone in the car obviously moving to the windows.

“On the right, Blue Camaro, Californian Number plate” I try keep my eyes on a parking space,

“It’s a guy and what I assume is his sister.” Katie inspects, “Boy look at that hair, he looks like he’s trying to be the big dick in a locker room.”

“KATE” I warn.

“Sorry.” She doesn’t really mean it, “Is he really not happy though?” We lose sight of him as I pull into a parking space.

“Why, did he not look angry?” I ask confused. They all shake their heads.

“Ok troopers” I lean back, calmly dishing out advice “Just stay away from him, he’s probably got daddy issues. Or something. I just don’t like the way his emotions feel.”

“And never trust a Californian.” Jay points a finger upwards, “ _Wiser words_.”

“Yeah. Let’s go with that.” I sigh.

We regroup at lunchtime.

 “I found out that guy’s name.” Rose says, ditching her friends just this once.

“Californian?”

“Yeah. It’s Billy Hargrove. And yes, he’s trying hard to be ‘that’ guy” I see Katie mouth ‘big dick in locker room’ and Rose nods.

“Always a new exotic kid to fawn over. Do you miss the attention?” Jay asks me. I shake my head vigorously.

“Especially since I am extra sensitive this year, and not completely powerless, I would probably make a kid pass out.”

“Have you ever?” Jay looks excited, I have to cut down that eagerness.

“I’ve barely even felt emotions like this before. And last year was my first time synchronizing my emotions with other people. I don’t even know my own limits. Maybe I’ll be lucky and only end up being hypersensitive. I’ve read some Empaths can make entire rooms of people fight. Or make people fall in love with them. Or, as you said, overload their brains and make people pass out. In my case, I might do that to myself.”

“Could you make me pass out before the pacer test?” Katie looks to me, pleading, “I swear if you could learn how to do that I would pay you.”

“The more you tell me about what I could be doing with my powers, the more I think they are more suited for you two.” I sigh into the air, leaning back, “I sure would love to trade.”

“Stop with your cursed child charade. We all know you’re being responsible.” Rose kicks back with me, “I would decide my life purpose would be like, a villainous cupid or some shit like that. You just go with the flow. It’s some real self-control.”

Maybe I would have been different if I wasn’t brought up as a traveling Nomad with my calm as a Hindu cow mother. Maybe the universe knew I wasn’t going to misuse its power.

_Maybe the universe thought I was still going to be in an isolated European town instead of High school when I was going through Empath Maturity._


	11. Climatize, It's getting colder (Year 2)

September was a blur of nothing but school work and cinema work.

There was a cold front coming in. I dreaded the shift of weather, and the seasonal depression it seemed to bring with it. Rose brought it upon herself one weekend to take me shopping for this new, icy climate. We spent way too long picking out cute sweaters, and pants to match. Even worse were the copious amount of socks I refused to buy; how many pairs of socks does one girl need? Either way, a bit of retail therapy was a great way to spend a dreadfully grey evening. Made better by the fact that we didn't bump into anyone from school.

Aunt Mari came back, an exciting evening. After the first bounds of reunion tears and dinner, she assessed my condition. Infuriatingly for me, she found everything rather alright. She added that her contact for the pills did not have much to offer.

“I have to be grateful she was still there.” Mari continued, going on about her epic saga from her two-month trip, “She told me to just support you through with this change. There really isn’t any stopping or suppressing it. But…” She whips out a small, woven bag, “I did buy some tea leaves that are naturally good for headaches. Seems period pain and Empathic over stimulation are basically equals.”

“I will take _anything_.” I groan. On my period, and dealing with everyone’s emotions, I am struggling to suppress the most irritable mood of a lifetime at school. “I am so glad you came back Mari.”

“You were doing so well by yourself. Cooking and cleaning and shopping. Did you say you ended up carpooling with your friends?”

“Yeah, Mari and Jay were getting real use to picking us up. I’m glad to have your car back though. Has a prettier look.”

 

I wait until the evening to get to what I really wanted to tell her. As soon as Rose went to take a bath, I corner Mari by the TV, watching some local news.

“I felt the presence again.” I say, she looks up alarmingly from the show, “Will Byers had some sort of premonition at the Arcade. And…” I grind my teeth a little, “It was worse than last time.”

“You think it’s something else?”

“Maybe. I’m scared that whatever happened last year left traces. It must have some way of hopping between dimensions. Otherwise this place wouldn’t be such a hot spot.”

“It’s really not your priority to do anything about this.”

“ _But I still feel everything about this_.” I hold back my anger, swirling and crashing waves of red rage against a weak wall, “If anything gets worse, I will leave. I have every right to.”

She nods at my statement. There is nothing she actually do about the situation. It’s my decision. And it is an out of hand stare of affairs. Before, I _chose_ to stay, but now…now I am regretting my verdict. My ruling of 'Hawkins is safe again'. 

“When was this?”

“A month ago.” I state, “I haven’t felt much since. Or, anything supernatural, kinda..”

“ _Define_ _much?_ ”

“Pinkie promise you won’t get angry for me snooping?” I search her eyes, she seems to think a little bit, ultimately nodding.

“Jim Hopper is harboring the Psychic Girl.” It about tumbles out of my mouth, a secret that was waiting to be told. Mari's mouth gaps open.

“Ok." She takes a calming breath, " _First_ of all, I thought you were trying to _distance_ yourself from all that drama.” I cringe. I thought I was too. “ _Secondly_ , how in the hell did you even find that out? He lives on the other side of Hawkins. Not even on a main road.”

“I really wouldn’t have gone investigating.” I answer honestly, “You remember when I snapped? That moment when my Maturity started, I had felt everyone in this _entire_ town. For maybe a second." I groan, thinking my words through, "Truth be told, I can't couldn't place anyone from just their emotions. But that girl? She is not the first who I’ve encountered with special abilities. Europe was full of them, especially the gypsy camps.” I decide to sit next to her, standing is a pain.

“They feel, _different,_ from regular people. I don’t know how to explain, but they emit a detectable, unmissable trait.” I continue. I can’t exactly explain how it feels. I just know it isn’t normal. Like a branding on the soul.

“So, when I felt everyone in town, I felt and recognized her. Well, at least, recognized someone with an ability. Which was curious. Subsequently, I took a bike ride around town one weekend, knowing full well I was being a snoop. But with good cause, I mean, having someone else in town with a power? That could mean trouble. I was searching _hard_. And the most interesting part; I have never felt such power in doing so. Letting my Empathy out so much…felt so good.” It's embarrassing, how natural it feels to use my ability. How addicting I can imagine it would be like for someone evil.

“And I was about to stop looking when I felt it. I barely needed to get to Hopper’s driveway. She is LOUD in her mind. So sad, so bored, and utterly lost. I didn’t know what to do of course. I just left. I suppose if she is there, she is being looked after, and just growing.”

“Wow.” Mari sighs, head resting on the couch, “Jim Hopper, raising a psychic child in secret. I sometimes wonder if I made the right decision to stay in Hawkins when your Uncle died. Seems it’s lead me through quite the unexpected life.”

“Yeah…But that’s it though.” I say, keeping the conversation light. My uncle dying was a very hard thing for my aunt, I can feel the mourning in her. I went to his funeral, even though I don't remember more then the shopping trip we took and a black coffin. Best to change the tone. “I haven’t felt any more premonitions, or monsters. Just plain High School drama. But of course...” I gesture vaguely.

“Of course, it’s not October.” She finishes for me. “Like last year.”

“We will just have to wait and see.” I say, defeated, laying back on the couch as she has. “We can’t do anything about it. I just wanted to let you know.”

“I thank you, for your trust in me.” She reaches over, and gives my hand a squeeze. “I can’t imagine if you had decided to keep this a secret. You would really have been struggling.”

“I’m thankful you didn’t call me crazy.” That earns we a laugh from her.

“Darling, who isn’t?”

 

* * *

 

 

It is raining hard the first week of October. 

I wake each morning to the sound of raindrops clashing into our, thankfully tiled, roof; and layer myself generously. Sometimes, me and Rose are drinking two cups of tea in the morning, delaying the minutes until I have to drive us to Hawkins High. We sit in front of the radiator like grumpy old women, dreaming of summer beaches (Spain, baby, I'm sorry), and dryer days. Though, at night, the house does give use to a functioning fireplace.

 At school, everything is a mess. The halls are slick and hazardous with mud, the 'heated' classrooms are freezing, and worse are the bathrooms and gym. To top off the exhilarating mood, all students are gloomy. I am having the time of my life with this shared winter depression. I am also starting to think I will never see Katie without gloves on her hands. She never takes them off. She also happens to be leaching heat off Jay all the time, almost glued to his hip, crying about not being allowed to bring a sleeping bag into classes.

I don't think I woke up with any bad, or' warning sign' feelings in the morning. I'm not a clairvoyant, yet sometimes I wake to the feeling of 'watch out'. This was not one of those mornings. I had a nice breakfast, I was dressed snugly in a sweater Rose picked out, my socks had been heating by the radiator all morning, so when I pulled them on, my toes were instantly warmed. Maybe I forgot that I left the umbrella to dry in the bathtub last night, but that was it. No umbrella, no problem. Wait, didn't I open the umbrella inside? That's sort of bad luck?

The main reason for my pondering, is that's what ran through my head in a split second at school.

"In a count of three, run." My battle cry to Rose, as we stepped out of the car and into the thundering rain.

I wasn’t careful this morning, when I ran into the battlefield. Not with my emotions. I was so busy trying to get undercover, because I darn forgot that umbrella, that I bumped into someone. I don’t remember who, now that I think about it. But they were pissed as hell. And I amplified that feeling ten-fold.

“Watch it Bitch” And unfamiliar, male voice. Or maybe just unrecognizable in the rain. I get shoved, two hands impacting into my chest, really hard.

I’m winded before I fall.

The muddy ground makes it hard for me to get traction, and when I slip backwards, my wrist finds the edge of the concrete path. At the moment of impact, pain shoots up through my wrist, then spreads through my arm. I yelp out loud, a sharp hurt and throbbing overtaking my senses. I'm also slightly aware of where the rest of my body lands; in the mud.

A chorus of gasps grips my attention, of others suddenly feeling my shock and pain. It might have been strenuous, but I quickly retract whatever I'm emitting. _Get yourself under control woman._

I'm grumbling in pain still, just getting my bearing back together. I have to sit up, but _breathing_ is hard. _Oh god no, I couldn't have broken something? I've broken a leg before, maybe a dislocated shoulder or two. I think I can tell the pain difference. I'm OK. Muddy, cold and wet, but OK_.

Hurried, splashing footsteps approach me, coming from the parking lot. I'm suddenly aware that rain isn't falling on my face. 

“Y/n!” An umbrella covers me. Black and slightly mangled. Crouching under it, Rose. We got separated for a bit, didn't we? I think she must have called my name when I fell, but this rain is so loud. The holder of this umbrella, the person who called my name out, is another one from the October pack. The boy Nancy likes, although, I don’t think she’s admitting it yet.

“Johnathan.” I grimace, my right hand cradling my left, my breathing ragged. I can feel the mud soaking thorough my pants, “Good morning.” I half grin, trying to reassure my two bystanders that I am not in agonizing pain. Although from my injured position on the ground, it surely wasn’t a good morning.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, as Rose pulls me up with my right hand. I’m suddenly thankful for his umbrella. But his worry is annoying. Always an anxious boy.

“Nothing broken. Though probably sprained.” I say, not daring to move my left wrist. It is throbbing badly, and my main focus is not to project this pain on anyone else.

"Trust me, that fall looked bad." Rose distressed,

“I’m defiantly going to go to the nurse." I reassured her, then turned to Johnathan, "Thanks for caring to stop. School hasn't even started and this week looks to be a problematic one.”

“I can see that." He spares me the humiliation of telling me I've got mud all over myself, and offers up more useful information,

"I saw who pushed you.” We start walking, leading ourselves to the entrance. To finally get undercover.

“I have to be honest, if you tell me, things will just get ugly.” I know they probably didn’t mean it. It was my fault in the end.

“Alright then.” He agrees. Some things are left as they are. “Well, take care I suppose.” He says, folding his umbrella.

“You too. And thanks again.” I wave him off, and Rose stays with me. We walk to the nurse’s office, knowing we will be late for Homeroom.

“Y/n” Rose mutters, “I know you can’t help it, but I feel the pain too.” I am suddenly woken up from a daze.

“Shit. I am so sorry.” I am doing my best to keep it to myself. It takes all my effort, I am in fact, in pain in both wrist and mind. “It’s ok to remind me if I’m not doing well. I have to work on this.” She nods understandably. We arrive at the nurse’s office.

I don’t tell her I got pushed, but as a High school nurse, she knows that’s a lie. It’s wrapped up within 15 minutes, including the time I use to change into borrowed pants to replace my muddy ones. I’m already pining to go home. But it’s really not that bad; I’m just tired.

“Give it maybe two/three weeks for the pain to subside. You are lucky you _fell_ so carefully.” I nod at the Nurse. Then Rose and I take our late slips, and head to our homerooms.

“Maybe you should've fallen on your other wrist. Get out of writing.” Rose jokes.

“Son of a bitch” I think out loud, “You should be lucky my punching arm is in order. Now get to class.”

I brace myself before I push the door to Homeroom open. I only have five minutes of it left. Each day it's been my most dreaded activity. Sure, I've sprained a wrist, but I've lucked out on missing most of those grueling minutes in the room with... that guy.

I enter, head high and spine straight, trying to seem confident as eyes turn to the door. As expected, I am hit with emotions I've learned to recognize as, distinctively, _his_. And annoyingly, they are of worry and distress. Moments later, like a realization, he crushes those emotions. Literally, the feeling of scrunching up a piece of paper.

People 'crush' their emotions all the time. A moment of fleeting pity, or hope, that gets pushed down. Usually because they know the other person won't appreciate it. The worst I've felt is the crushing of love, when we dealt with a wife beater at a trailer park. I started crying so violently my father had to become involved. 

But this crushing of emotion, I appreciate. It means he knows his boundaries. 

I don’t look away from my teacher at all as I hand over the late slip, murmuring out my accident, then planting my eyes firmly to my empty seat, and Katie.

I know the second my gaze lands on her, that the usually overwhelming and easily distracting emotions she carried, weren't enough to scream over Steve's . Try as I might, my  focus can't be torn from the other side of the room. The place he always sits. It irks me. Should I have just flat out told him I hated him? I made it clear we are not friends. So why does he always have to think of me as one. A _possible_ one. He had no right to be worried. Or concerned. And now he's just sulking.

“You are such a klutz.” Katie giggles as I sit down. She's wearing an over sized jumper, with probably two layers on underneath. Maybe I should remind her that thermals exist. And, always, the gloves are on. She lightly kicks Jay's seat to gain his attention. 

"Ouch." He leniently chuckles, eyeing my bandage. "Monday's, am I right?"

I lean over to correct them.

“Fun fact; sometimes I accidentally make people angry enough to push me.”

“Oh no.” Katie's smile falls, eyes searching mine “Is it under control?”

 

_“Yeah.” And exasperated sigh escapes my lips, “I did it out of surprise. Whoever it was is probably shocked as hell right now.”_


	12. Hair, Truth, and Sunset drives (Year 2)

Just as cold arrives in Hawkins, it decides to make sure we know the new season is upon us. The weather has been very unfavourable, and I don't think any amount of hot chocolate and blanket layers can make me feel better. Not to mention, my first night home with the wrist bandage was terrible. Cooking, dressing- just anything that involves two hands- has turned into a nightmare. 

_Two weeks. I can manage two weeks._

But the continuing grey skies dampen my mood horribly. I mean, it's settled in way quicker then I would've expected. I don't remember it being this cold last year. Maybe it's just unfortunate. Or I've cursed the town; I really shouldn't have opened an umbrella indoors.

Terrible weather doesn't stop school though.

This week, all the PE classes are trying to share the Gym, _at the same time_. No one has had an outdoor class. Kayaking is still not part of the curriculum. Some teachers agree to run classroom lessons, and I believe them to be the lucky bunch. Theory work has never looked so interesting. Others, like my class, get to keep the basketball court. There are two reasons why this is the worst week ever for PE.

Reason number one is the usual Winter issue; we all have to change into our sports uniforms, albeit, most people leave their jumpers on, and let their legs freeze (while others have sweatpants, which I now punch myself for not thinking of).

Reason two, something that shouldn't be an issue, is that I share the same P.E time as Harrington. Although we are in segregated classes, today is the first time I’ve had to share the space with him. It is so much easier to dodge him during the day. I can feel him before he turns a corner, so I can hide. I can sit away from him in homeroom, and Algebra, and Literature. But in no way can I dodge someone in P.E. And in some way, I have to act cool with that. My saving grace right now is that Rose’s class is also in here. And since the changed lesson is not being taken seriously, the classes have unanimously decided to play volleyball.

I rub one hand over my shoulders, it's much colder in the gym. I really don't want to take my jumper off. And dressing with one hand in a freezing changing room? My skin turns blue at the thought.

I zoned out the entire lesson meeting. The sound of shoes thundering across the gym brings me back. I lift my head up and see my classmates, and another year level dismissed to change. My eyes catch my gym teacher's, and for a moment I'm sure I'll be in trouble for not paying attention. But they don't seem angry? Oh, they've probably noticed.

“Y/n” My teacher calls, and I take a few steps over, “You injure your wrist?”

“Yeah, sprained it yesterday morning Sir.” I am now aware that you need an uninjured wrist to play volleyball. 

“We need another captain for the Freshman group. You played Volleyball very well last semester, I’m sure it’s better than sitting on the sidelines. You don't need to change either”

This is the best case scenario.

The best of the best-case scenarios. This doesn’t just give me a reason to not be close to Steve, I also have to keep my eyes glued to the Freshman’s game. Thank the Heavens. Thank every atom and molecule on this Earth. I am basically glowing from the inside out as I agree to the proposal. I am also aware I am radiating this happiness, broadcasting.

‘ _Calm down_.’ I have to remind myself. _‘No one should be this happy about avoiding someone_ ’.

So that afternoon takes a turn for the best. I am in fact, a very good referee.

It is wildly fun to keep up with the emotions of Freshmen playing Volleyball. The thrill of winning, and losing a match; synchronizing.

It keeps my mind entertained and distracted, my thoughts in time with a game instead of the intense stare I was getting, eyes drilling into me. I didn’t even know I could guess at that. But I suppose that’s a new Empathic ability; being able to feel an emotion that is _me_. The certain feeling that is my own essence.

It is freaky because I thought only mind-readers could know if someone was thinking about them. Of course, I am not doing it via language, but via sensation. I do my best not to look back at Steve.  To not look away from this match just to stare him down. Give him a dirty look or two.

I fail a few times. The few times he’s, thankfully, looking away. But I know, none the less, that he wants to say something to me. And I don’t care for it at all. Is it somehow possible to project the emotion of ‘ _please ignore me_ ’ to someone?

Because I can certainly try.

 

* * *

 

 

This Weekend forecast predicted clear skies. Clear skies and some above freezing weather. OK. It really hasn’t been freezing, but some of us really don’t climatize well.

Since October is fresh in season, midway to Halloween, alright, maybe a third of the way now, a few seniors have arranged a Gath. A bonfire in the Junkyard. Just some music being blasted, some snacks, some casual banter.

Some illegal drinking and, I predict, some weed too. All in good spirits though, just some fun to spruce up a dead season. And just in time to celebrate my healed wrist.

“Did you want to come to the fire tonight?” I ask Rose, who is standing over me as I kneel over the bathtub. With Katie’s hair being kept pink (and delightedly, after her mother gave her permission, was redone by a hairdresser via my donation), and Jay experimenting with a sneaky strip of purple in his hair, I decided to join in.

We are, of course, trying to put some spirit into this gloomy weather. Why not add my hair to the mix?

I asked Mari of course, as a parental figure, for permission. Her only reply was ‘ _you can do whatever the hell you want to your hair. But no mullets_ ’. I went all the way to the city to find some blue hair dye. That was my Friday, pretending to be sick (via Aunt Mari, taking one for the team), and driving to our nearest city, getting gosh darn blue hair dye. Though, Katie and Jay, and Rose, loyal as ever, decided to keep me company. And also, we are all getting emotionally sick of small-town life. Why not hang out in a city for a day? It was sunny at least. And we took a few more pictures, a few more flowers, and a donut receipt, for the Scrapbook.

“The night isn’t limited to Seniors you know. I did hear a few younger years were going.” I remind her, as she works the dark blue dye through a bleached strip of my hair carefully. It is only a strip, like a bird, just one feather to accent the rest of the natural colour.

“I might.” She says absent-minded, “I feel too much like dead weight, always tagging along with your group. I’ll call around to see if any of my classmates are going.”

“Fair enough”. She settled into High school really well, but I believe she hangs out with me a lot more than necessary because I am leaving next year. She is soaking up whatever time she has left of me. And of course, we have pulled off a few pranks, and I have helped her bring together, off the books, maybe a few couples. It was so much easier then I thought it would be. But amplifying feelings is becoming pretty easy now. Even though I have to feel them too.

"Do you think I should do my nails?" I examine my unpainted hands, not even remembering the last time I had applied nail polish. I'm in all ways actually trying to keep the conversation light, since Katie is feeling unsure. Maybe it's about the dye job, but I'm not that naive to mix up the stress of a simple task, and a risky question.

She doesn't answer. I keep my eyes trained on the bathtub, watching flecks of blue splatter against the white. _This could make a good picture_ , I think. _I'd just need to get the focus right_. My knee starts to hurt.

“I have to ask you something, I just need you not to get mad at me.” Rose murmurs, covering some cling-wrap around the dyed hair, the waiting process begins. I sit back on the bathtub’s edge, free from pain.

“I swear, I won’t get mad.” I'm never mad at her, I'm understanding. Rose is a risky question asker, I've already proven she can be as hectic with those queries as she wants to be. What would make her so unsure? She has been like this for a few weeks now. Wanting to say something, stopping herself. I thought it was just her resisting criticism.

“OK then. I’ve been thinking something over, and I have come up with a theory.”

“Oh, theory making now? Taking one from Katie's book?”

"This is serious." Her voice forceful. It might be just me, but the room feels colder.

"Al-alright. Go on." I try to make proper eye contact, but they somehow keep wandering off to the door.

“I think you can make people avoid you.” Now _that is_ a surprise. “I noticed it when you wanted a teacher to go away when they caught Jay skateboarding in the halls. And then some more when we were at the shops and a guy started chatting up Katie about her hair. As soon as you told him to go, well...” She puts her hands up, “He left without putting up a fight.” 

Here's the thing. I lie to myself. I lie to myself a lot. I'm unreliable in my own head. I knew I could do this. Not explicitly; I didn't have that inner conversation of _'I can make_ people _avoid me_ '. But I _knew_. And it's a bad habit.

“Well, I suppose it is a good thing then, yeah?” My voice trembles, but I make it through the lie. Acting dumb. 

“No.” Her words blunt. “You say you don't play with other people emotions unfairly. _But you do_." Am I being scolded by my younger cousin? I visible gulp. This is somehow worse than my mother telling me off. She continues.

"And it's getting worse, because you are doing it to someone else, rather unfairly.” I look up at her, eyebrows furrowed. I note her gloves stained blue, an old, oversized patterned top, and her hair pulled back into a braid. She is actually gorgeous. I may not like her next words, but at least I know they are coming from someone who means what they say, and who is kind enough to do it.

“I have always joked around my abilities at knowing couples. I have no psychic powers, Empath qualities, or Cupids bow and arrow. Never mind those, I have a psychologist’s ability to know this. A Mentalist in the dominion of love. And I know who you like, no matter if you believe it or not.” I swallow my anxiety, almost choking on it. Fuck. 

“In P.E, that time you had to ref my Volleyball team, I fully recognized that look. Although I was still wondering about it since last year, it solidified my answer. When you were looking up, you had the eyes of a girl with a crush. And you were looking right at Steve Harrington.”

Being figured out, hearing a thought I avoid in my head being said out loud; it's louder than a gunshot.  

His name echoes in the bathroom. I stare blankly at her face. My heart a jackhammer. It feels like being caught, except, caught in a normal act. Like being called out for walking. Because of course, it was obvious, wasn’t it?

How could no one guess it? I'm a fucking catastrophe around him. I'm irrational, I act out. If I actually hated him, I wouldn't even give him a second thought. But he's on my mind all the time. And then it messes with my emotions, I mean, have Katie and Jay never realized how I make them feel when I see him? 

It's obvious, I know that. But only Rose figured it out.

“And I think.” She continues, “You don’t want to admit it so bad, you purposely make him avoid you. This really has to be the only time you’ve persistently misused you Empathy. And..” She takes a resolute breath, “I am starting to feel bad for you both.”

I look down, shamed. Humiliated. Of course, in all of my being, I knew what I was doing. It was an unconscious thought, buried down, repressed. Because I was embarrassed to have a crush. It made me an uncomfortable, nervous wreck. I haven’t had one before. Maybe a few fancies, but never like this. Not that it was that strong of a crush. But, I mean, the strongest I’ve ever had. In the way of ‘ _I want to get to know their favourite ice cream flavour, and read about our horoscope compatibility, and go on pointless drives together_.’

And this was also my way of coping, of forgetting that he had a girl. He was the popular guy at school. Doesn’t it feel too cliché to like the popular boy? Too reckless, too stupid? Was I that easy if I liked such a guy? Or maybe it was because his emotions were so…interesting. Perhaps I was just attracted to the fact that I couldn’t pin him down. Couldn’t figure him out. That also feels like using him. And I’m suddenly overwhelmed.

“You are so right,” My eyes are fill with hot, burning tears. I don’t even care when they fall down my face. I am sobbing out the rest, “I just didn’t want to like him. I am so sorry.”

She suddenly looks like the hurt one. Is it her guilt for making me cry? Is it because I’m flooding her with my unhappiness, making her cry too? She pulls me into her chest, and lets me bawl into her. It’s really all I can do.

 

Because she knows, he’s taken.

She knows I’m not the type to chase after a boy.

She knows I hate using my power for something insignificant, or something self-gaining.

She knows for a good year, I was lying to myself.

And who doesn’t feel better after a good cry?

 

When we wash my hair and dry it, I suddenly look much…spunkier? The blue suits me immensely, and I squish Rose into me.

“You should consider hairdressing. You did an amazing job” I run off to show Aunt Mari. She agrees. “I can’t wait for Katie and Jay to see this. The trio is complete.”

Pink. Purple. Blue. What a combo.


	13. Unsatisfactory kisses and Moonlight Idiots (Year 2)

The Sunset drive was filled with bickering and lots of touching my hair. The sunlight stained the sky the colors of a fire, burning a vibrant red and orange. A little atypical for a Autumn night. But the clouds were drifting away, so the promise of stars was fulfilled. Rose and me stopped by a convenience store to pick up some snacks, and then picked up her friends. The same ones who went biking with us this summer. Sophia and Abagail. And also, the new edition, Elijah.

“y/n, your hair is _wicked_.” The young boy compliments me, as Sophia, with my permission, plays with it from the back seat.

“I can braid it if you want” She offers.

“That would actually look great.” I respond. “Remind me when we get there.”

Katie and Jay are already in attendance, car parked around an unlit wooden pyramid. Our unlit Bonfire. I swerve and park my car next to theirs, front facing the pile. It will soon become a circle of cars. We are just early, because of course, we wanted to catch the sunset. And enjoy the peace and quiet before the racket.

“OH MY LORD” Katie screams, rushing to me as I step out of the car. “It’s great. You look great. Better then great. I love the blue.” I blush at the attention.

“We are a matching tag team now” Jay smiles. I like it. Us three, now have a physical marking of our group. Our dyed hair. I let Sophia up on her offer of braiding, and turn to continue the conversation.

“Now what snacks did you two supply?” I ask, hoping they participated in this goodwill of dinner providing. And also, because I did lend out some cash for a little extra something.

“Apart from the excellent weed and booze my brother helped me get?” Jay winks, “nothing too special.” I hoot.

“Have a designated driver PLEASE.” I remind, and Katie puts her hands up, looking satisfied.

“I’ve volunteered as sacrifice. Also, I’m on antibiotics, so I don’t think I’m allowed alcohol.” She accidentally got her fourth piercing infected. We teased the hell out of her about it. But we are great friends, and have since stopped teasing her about it. Probably.

“Oh damn, that is quite the look” Jay compliments, as Sophia finishes up with my braid. I pull it to my eyes, and nod.

“This is really making up for the shitty start of October. Soph, you are a legend.” She reddens at the compliment, her Senior giving her praise.

“Who is lighting this fire?” I call out to the boys standing around the pit.

“We’re waiting for Ethan to get back.” One calls out to me, “Unless you know how to light fires.”

Uhmm, heck yes, _I do_. I grew up camping for a living. Those years spent sleeping under the stars didn’t just give me a good knowledge of constellations and what bug bite hurts the most.

“Step aside boys!” I bellow jokingly, pushing back the sleeves of my jumper, “Your Hero has arrived!”

"Wait, why didn't you help me light the fire on your birthday?" Jay gasps.

_"Y/N!?!"_

 whoops

* * *

 

 I only notice the temperature shift when my breath starts fogging up.

The night grew colder with each passing hour, and now that chill is felt in my bones. I smell like wood-smoke, so do my clothes. My hands are hiding in my jacket pockets, as if that could possibly warm them up. By now, I have talked so much my lips hurt. I’ve explained all the constellations to those who cared, retold lots more stories (more interesting, and some illegal) about my time in Europe, and eaten most of our snacks. I’ve now taken to listening to other’s stories, and watch as our party simply exists around this bonfire. Some boys have started exploring the grounds. Some have jumped over the fire.

It burns a mystical glow. I am awed into remembering my birthday.

“Not going to smoke?” Jay asks, knowing I paid for the weed. I thought I was going to. But when we arrived, I started having my doubts. What if my powers become even more unstable? I know I’m ignoring it, but it’s very hard to not listen to these emotions. Most of the teens here are lustful. Or cold. Taking a pick, I am consecrating on the cold ones.

I look across to Rose, on the other side of the fire, enjoying a sober time with some more freshmen and juniors by a pick-up truck. I think they’ve started a card game.

“No, but I’ll have some cider.” I eventually say. I know I’ve become quieter since Nancy rocked up. A little later then usual. Her lips chapped, her face cheeky, her boyfriend in tow.

I’m not sure what to do now that me and Rose have had that conversation. Possibly, I’ll go back to making myself smaller. Hiding. Like a brat, I don’t want to apologize for yelling. I take an offered cider from Jay’s grip and lean back on his car, in a casual conversation with Ethan about the time he decided to take a trip to Texas, and subsequently broke a few laws and his arm.

I am swiftly hit with a wave of tiredness, my own in fact. I know I haven’t been sleeping well lately. My wrist made that apparent. But now it’s enclosing 1am. And I am just not in the mood for a party. Plus, all this talking and noise is giving me a headache. So, I move to Mari’s car, my car, and sit on the bonnet. Sipping the cider, and watching a few Juniors tend to the flames.

Someone’s stereo is blasting a mixtape. It just finishes Bruce Springsteen’s Dancing in the Dark, fading into David Bowie’s Blue Jean. I close my eyes for a few seconds. I wonder when I should go home. Then I judge how my brain is feeling.

Picking out everyone’s emotions, one by one, carefully willing myself to feel less, and calm down. I have been managing terribly, but fine at the same time. As I’ve said before, don’t want to snap. But if I don’t snap, then it’s already good progress.

I feel him decide to move towards me before taking a few strides my way. He is filled with a couple emotions I’ve grown use to. The deep pit of anger, the swirling passion of lust, and the small, insecurity he feels deep down. Of course, that’s just me not trying to feel him. The Californian Mess, aiming for number one boy. Billy Hargrove.

“Have you just been waiting all night to corner me” I mutter, opening my eyes. Of course, I’ve talked with him as few times this month. Casual, small talk. ‘I use to be the New Kid, now it’s you’ sort of talk. But I suppose, I never quite got his intentions in check. I haven’t cared. His emotions make it difficult to see what he’s going to act upon. I’ve kept with my own advice on sticking away from him. But tonight, I am cornered. And tonight, I don’t particularly care.

“Caught” He laughs. It sounds sly. I hate it. The same way I hate the smell of cigarette smoke from his breath. But I don’t show my dislike. “And I think I’m smart enough to know not to play around with you.” He takes a seat next to me without asking. I’m instantly aware of where this is going. I can feel it radiating off him.

“You seem like a girl that doesn’t get attached” he says, looking from me, to the fire. There is plotting in his voice. “And I am looking for a favor”

“I didn’t think you needed to ask favors to make someone jealous. There are a number of girls here you can flirt around with for short-lived interest” I cross my ankles as I lean further onto the bonnet, resting on my elbows.

“But you are a spectacle among the Seniors. Out of town, attractive, exciting backstory.” He leans in “And plenty of admirer’s. I’d say we are both what the kids call a ‘catch.’” He’s not wrong. That part vexes me. He’s assessed his battle ground, he knows the tactics; I give him that. (Don’t trust a Californian, Jay did have the wiser words). But tonight, I seem to have other plans then to wave him off.

“Go on.” I see a smile creep across that cunning face. I’m playing his game. I’m showing I’m good sport.

“Oh, I just want to start a bit of rumors, a bit of, hmm” he looks across at a large group of Seniors, “Envy in a few certain individuals. I also want to get you off the goody two shoes list, I mean come one” he looks at me, play puppy dog eyes, “a whole year without, not just dates, but not even one public kiss?”

“No one is interesting enough.” I say casually, trying to look bored.

“Or someone isn’t single.” And I am caught out. My eyes give it away before I can pretend he is wrong. I hear a gasp of faux surprise.

“Oh no y/n, now, looks like you would be getting something out of this.” It sounds too much like mockery. I look over to Katie, who is looking at me alarmed. I give her a little shake. The ‘I’m OK, he’s not trying to murder me’. That confuses her, but I know she won’t leave Jay’s side. He is not an easy drunk to deal with.

“Was there anything else in the offer that isn’t satisfaction?”

“Did you want there to be?” His voice low. He takes a final drag of the finished cigarette, before dropping it to his feet, not bothering to stomp it out. He’s testing the waters, and honesty, I not desperate, but I am losing the battle of suggestiveness to his mind. I am too tired to fight the Empath in me. I’m wanting what he wants. There is no battling that.

“No.” I say, “Like you said, I don’t get attached. I care little in what people think of me.” I shrug, “Why not start some fun rumors for next week.” I lean in closer to him. “Kiss me and see how our classmates react. See what the two, new, exotic Seniors making out does to an entire year level.”

“Are you going to tell me who he is?” He asks me, our breath mixing. I try filter out the smell of smoke. If he likes smoke, I can trick my brain into liking it too. Steal that feeling out of him.

“Are you going to tell me your true intentions?” That’s a no from both of us. I am mildly aware of the song shifting from ‘When doves cry’ to ‘Little Red Corvette’. Someone’s a Prince fan.

With that he moves in front of me, and I am picked up, placed on the bonnet of the car. He leans into me, my head tilts up, and our lips crash together.

He’s akin to a predator. Hungry, devouring, as he presses into me. My mind takes away my discomfort, and replaces it with his passions. Needy, full of desire. Unfortunately, I might even amplify it. The taste of smoke in his mouth now comforting, the rough, sloppy way our tongues move against each other becomes a familiar sensation. I explore his mouth, his teeth, challenging his moves. Having not kissed anyone in years, I take pride my previous experience having not disappeared.

A Polish Boy taught me how to move my tongue. An Italian girl how to move my hands. A Ukrainian gypsy how to make the recipient feel special. 

 I trace the roughness of his stubble as my hands glide up from his check, to his hair. I feel from his reaction he likes the sensation of me pulling it. He moans as I start raking my hands through it. In fact, he just likes being touched. I’m again reminded on my earlier comment when I first saw him. ‘Daddy issues’. This may be the case.

“Doll, you are good at this,” he whispers breathlessly as we part. In response, I just wrap my legs around him, and continue on, publicly making out with our current bad boy, present number one bachelor of Hawkins. All because I’m taking his emotions, flooding my mind with desire and want and forgetting completely, or at least trying to, about another person. Another good haired, but good hearted, and certainly quick-witted boy. Sitting across the fire, holding his girlfriend, and hopefully, not looking at me. Not looking at me throwing myself into debauchery.

Suddenly, drowning in Billy’s mind is intoxicating. I let myself go from whatever worries I had before. Because I agreed to this for that exact reason. To forget. I am certainly not going to make Steve jealous of me. He already HAS someone. And probably more waiting in line. It’s me who’s jealous.

I’m eager to please. I moan when he reaches for my breasts. He cups them roughly, and stokes his thumbs across the nipples. I whine a little in surprise as he tweaks one. It’s a little too public for this. He is making quite a scene. I follow through, moving my hands slowly from his hair, and down his back. One hand above the other. I stroke my tongue across the roof of his mouth, and then grind against him. Oh yes, he likes that.

And we continue on.

Hair pulling, tongue clashing, body grinding. I am breathing hard, whimpering softly against his lips. He moves to my neck, nipping at the delicate skin there. So, I lick his ear, nibbling on the ends teasingly, my hand caressing the back of his neck. He unexpectedly sucks hard on the exposed skin, I had discarded my jacket earlier. This son of a bitch is marking me, without my permission. I break away from him, not in the right state of mind to be furious, but still annoyed.

“Was the out of habit?” I snarl, “Don’t fuck with me like that.”

“That just makes you sound hotter.” I ignore his indifference, and close the gap between us once more. I avoid that through blurred vision, I do catch the one pair of eyes I don’t want, but slightly do want, looking at me. This just makes me close my eyes again, letting my captor take control, letting our saliva mix and our breaths quicken, and his arousal grow. I don’t want to feel anything right now but the foreign emotion of a crafty, damaged, shameless teenager; And our bodies, urgently, forcefully clinging onto one another. My newly formed hickey feels cold against the wind, and his breath on my face the opposite.

In all honesty, he also seems to be escaping something.

 

_I let Billy Hargrove kiss the Queen of the Stars._


	14. Just clearing things up (Year 2)

The drive back may have been awkward, but at least chapped lips and an uncomfortable story is legal. At least I am sober, driving back four teenagers home at 2.30am on a Sunday morning. I smell like fire, Billy’s cologne, and wind. Yes, wind has a scent. And if regret had one, I might have an underlying whiff of it.

The three accompanying Rose are starting to fall asleep on each other. It’s a cute sight. Rose is sitting next to me, shotgun. 

“What the hell was that back there?” She asks, not accusatively. In fact, she sound’s scared. Worried, I realize. That was very out of character for me.

“Coping, maybe.” I reply, “Forgetting. Being a dumb teenager. Whatever you want to call it.”

“I call it something you are going to explain thoroughly on Monday. Katie left Jay just to tell me what was happening. I think I spat out my cola. Y’know everybody knows?”

“I think that was the point.”

“You are seriously more anxious about the Steve thing then I thought you were, if you have resorted into making out with Hargrove.”

“But I felt in control of that moment Rosey” I murmur, turning off onto the road Abagail lives on. The three are sleeping over tonight. “And I haven’t felt like that in a while.”

“I don’t hate you.” She says, sympathetically, “I just...” she snorts out loud a little, “Billy!”

“Yeah” I chuckle back, “Billy.”

“He technically doesn’t count as a Hawkins boy.” She says thoughtfully.

“I think Californian might be worse in Katie’s eyes.” I pull over, and turn, shaking the three, unfortunately, awake.

 

* * *

 

 

The hickey is not gone by Monday. But neither is the cold. I don’t have to bother wondering if my clothes would cover it up. What I didn’t expect was an early morning call.

“Hello.” I answer, in the midst of frying up French Toast.

“Y/N” Katie’s voice loud and demanding, “we are meeting up at school early. Get your ass there in half an hour. No, twenty minutes.”

“Compromise for twenty-five.” I exhale, thinking about how I wanted to enjoy this breakfast, “Can I say sorry beforehand?”

“No, this phone call never happened. See you later gator” and the line goes dead. I can’t feel emotions over the phone. I can stay optimistic that she actually isn’t angry, that she is calm enough to not slap me. 

“Rose” I call, “We have to hurry up. I might have an early morning scolding in wait for me.”

“Serious?” she groans, “But breakfast?”

“You aren’t driving. Just get dressed and you can eat in the car.”

The whole drive to Hawkins High I am deep in thought; almost hitting a fallen tree branch. I left the bonfire with barely a few words of farewell to my two friends.

When Billy felt like he had gotten the audience, the satisfaction he wanted, he broke the kiss and gave me a toothy smile, letting our breathing slow down. ‘That was fun Doll.’ He whispered, gratified, ‘I think we did well’. ‘I believe we did.’ I answered ‘Let’s not do this too often’ ‘we will see’ he responded as if there might have been a part two, but I don’t think he will need me anymore.

I pull into an almost empty parking lot, placing myself next to Jay’s car. I don’t see them, probably because they are in the courtyard.  And when me and Rose walk around the school grounds, that’s exactly where we find them.

“There has got be me a stunning explanation for last night.” Katie says, irritated. Betrayed even.

“Good morning.” Jay smile, remembering you greet people before insulting them first, “And sincerely, what the fuck?” He doesn’t seem half as irritated as Katie. In fact, a small smile on his face indicates he is finding this situation amusing. To that, I would say what the fuck.

I look at Rose helplessly, ‘please tell them. I don’t want to. I can’t’ my eye’s plead. She seems to get the message, and steps forward.

“Katie.” She about sing-song’s her name, “y/n and I made a really interesting development on Saturday.”

“Yeah?” her attention not leaving me. I am reddening quickly. Such a childish notion, I kick at the grass. I cannot believe my biggest issue right now isn’t a monster, or my Empath Maturity.

“Seems our girl has had a crush on Steve Harrington. For about” She makes a thinking face, hand coming up to her chin, “I’d say since day one.” Jay lets out a snort. “I know right? And the best part is instead of dealing with it, she’s actually forcing him to avoid her with her abilities.”

Katie is processing all this. I am hiding behind my hands. Rose voiced this better then I would have.

“So,” she starts, “You have the ability to make a guy avoid you, just because you are crushing on him. But you can’t make me pass out before the pacer test?”

“I can try.” I voice, exasperated. She shakes her head.

“Girl, you are a piece of work.” She comes in to hug me, “You really…. You had to make out with Billy? I would have rather you borrow Jay”

“Billy came seeking for me. I don’t think I would’ve done this without that implication” I say into the crook of her shoulder. “But now we are going to have some fun rumours going around.”

“You say that as if it’s a good thing.” She questions. “Was small town life that boring?”

“Ehhhh” I shrug, “I was just curious. He’s the talk right now, and I was the first girl he publicly kissed. I wonder what I’m in stall for this week.”

“Why am I friends with you.” She rolls her eyes and swings her hands up to the sky “My friend is a moron who kisses Californians for attention and jealousy.”

“Say it just a little louder and God might reply” I jest.

 

_“He better reply in agreement.”_


	15. I promise I'm not Salty (Year 2)

That week was certainly interesting, and I caught Hargrove’s eye a couple times. He winked. I chose to ignore it. But it didn’t change anything with Steve. This boy might not be able to take a hint, or twenty. Maybe he was trying to figure me out as much as I was him. But at the same time, I felt the genuine love he felt for Nancy every time they were together, and I mentally kicked myself. Over, and over, again. I can manipulate other’s emotions so well, I have learnt how to change anger to calmness, I have even done the opposite and provoked a schoolmate to push me. But why can’t I do the same manipulation on myself? I would give so much right now to have the ability of creating myself a stoic nature.

Time passes. The rest of the week leading up to Halloween are a sort of blur. And I start missing my suppressants. My little, black pills, capable of numbing me. Because it might just be my imagination, the way I believe my sensitivity is spiking. But I don’t like the ‘maybe’ in this question. It’s not something I’m afforded to not know; I have to be wary of when I might cause a scene. I’m actually lucky enough if it is only a scene.

A call for the next party arrives, a proper one. Or at least one with meaning. The Halloween party. I didn’t at all celebrate it back in Europe, so it comes as a surprise to me how much the US loves it. Rose didn’t really give it much thought last year. But she was invited out this year, so she’s acting upon it as if it were a normal outing, like being asked to go to the movies.  And it had to be my luck that, even though I was skilled in the art of manufacturing clothes (sewing. I’m good at sewing), Aunt Mari as the mother of Rose, took the responsibility of taking those hours to make Rose a costume.

This morning I did instantly realize I was more sensitive than usual. Which is now a definitive answer then maybe. And within the day, I had racked up 12 incidents. Do you want me to name them all? I won’t, but the standouts include: Burning my hand on the waffle iron and making Rose and Mari feel the pain with me, making a teacher throw a book at me, amplifying a girl’s emotional state and making her cry at lunch, blacking out for ten seconds in Literature, and the worst was making everyone freeze is surprise at homeroom when Jay snuck up on me. They instantly knew today was ‘that’ kind of day, and refrained from teasing. I like how, even when I’m the one who can feel and, now manipulate, emotion, they have been training themselves to be calm. They have been working towards what my mother has always had; a steady, rock solid calm, that I can rely on when I need a grip on reality. Although, they might not be the best at it, it is comforting.

The dismissal bell rings, snapping me out of a daze. I straighten up on my wall and take a chance to pear over the corner. I already had a free period. I needed to wait for Rose, and that was supposed to be by her locker. But I couldn’t enter that hallway, as Steve had the same idea about Nancy.

I waver around, irritated, hiding. In all reasonability, I don’t have to try not to admire him, he’s wearing sunglasses indoors, that just makes him look as dorky as when I first saw him. ‘Don’t touch the popular boy’, my mind had told me then, ‘You’ll have to deal with a brainless fashion disaster’. Not to say Jay and Katie sometimes spout out nonsense, and wear something funny enough, to fall into that category. But somehow, Katie can make an ugly sweater, and rambling nonsense, look desirable. Maybe, being a Queen, you can look royal in a trashcan.

“I can’t let you go out all alone Halloween. That’s not acceptable” I hear Nancy, suddenly realizing I’m eavesdropping, and not particularly caring for it. I try ignore the stampede of emotion now in the hall as she continues chatting, affectionately, with Johnathan.

“Well you can relax, I’m not going to be alone. I’m going trick or treating with Will.” Like man, sammmeee. I already turned down ‘Tina’s Halloween bash’, after this morning, and my rising sensitivity of today, I do not want to explode drunk heads at a High School party. Plus, I need to drive Rose and her friends home. Besides, what do adults say? The fresh air might do me some good?

I my thoughts are interrupted by a high squealing. And more laughter. Steve’s got Nancy in his arm’s, twirling her in the air. For a sudden moment it reminds me of the dancing I took part of in the Slavic regions. Then I’m back to spying.

“Oh my god take those stupid things off” At least she said it.

“I missed you” it’s true, he did.

“It’s been like an hour” That’s true, I saw them separate last bell time.

“Tell me about it.” I look away as they kiss, focusing too hard on the other approaching feeling. Get their love out of my head.

Don’t assume I am oblivious to Johnathan’s moping over Nancy. I have felt it since that moment in the car park last year. And I still feel it, occasionally… Persistently actually. I assume it’s because we are both feeling the same. He turns the corner, my corner, and I decide to pounce.

“Hey Johnathan” We don’t talk much, I wont lie, he probably assumes I’m up to something. Well, I AM. I suppose. Oh god I am being so dumb right now. Pathetic.

“Oh, hey, y/n.” He stops, he was probably lost in thought too. “How’s the wrist?” It’s been a while.

“You know what, it only hurts if I punch too hard, or sleep on it.” I reply earnestly. “Anyways, I couldn’t help but overhearing that you were thinking about going to the Halloween Bash” I scout the flyer in his hand, slightly crumpled, “And babysitting for Halloween was clashing with that plan”

“Well, I mean, Will could probably go on his own. His friends are capable enough.”

“But you are still anxious about it. Especially after last year.” I hope I’m not overstepping here. Well, if I am I could easily calm him down. That’s cheating though. And he’d probably come to his wits after a few minutes. Right now, though, he is as calm as I need him to be. Defiantly a bit curious.

“Are you not coming to the party?” He questions, breaking the flow of this conversation. I sigh.

“No.”

“You seemed to be interested in these. Since last party you did get into a whole lot of fun.” Johnathan would be the last person I’d expect to bring up my scene with Billy. Don’t think the whole school forgot. It’s like a weekly question now, even though we haven’t talked or hung out since.

“Please stop.” My head falls into my hands, “I’m just not allowed to go, that’s all”

“Grounded?” He tilts his head.

“Alas,” I start to joke my misfortune, “I am actually an Empath who feels extra sensitive today, and don’t want to blow some brains up. Me not going is a world of favour to our Senior class.”

“Oh well then, I get it completely.” He chuckles, “You have a little cousin to babysit too, am I right?” Now this boy has some IQ behind him. Literally, I told my entire truth, in his face, yet he still picked up on Rose, the more logical option.

“Yeah. We don’t live close to the busy suburbs, so I have to drive her back. Also, I’m not lying about my head feeling off, I’ve been nursing a headache this past week. A party would kill me.”

“So, you are propositioning to look after my brother as well?”

“Oh, I’ll just take Rose and her mates on the same route as them. Trail behind. Give them sense of independence, while safe in the confidence that my right arm can still throttle a stray kid.”

“Nice offer” He considers it, “Why do you want me at the party so bad?” I have nothing to say. Nothing that won’t sound like the exact thought’s in my head. ‘Oh, I know you aren’t going to drink but Nancy and Steve are and I just need someone there as a just in case. Maybe I hope she’ll actually confess her drunken feelings to you. I’m dumb like that,’

“You just need to have some fun.” I shrug. “And the more kid’s I look after, the more reason Katie and Jay won’t bug me for not going.”

“Right.” He agrees. I know he does. I can feel excitement, and some anxiety, flowing thorough him. We start walking towards the exit. He tells me the meeting place and time, and what time they should be back home, and that he would inform Will that I was not some random stalker, but in fact, just a volunteer.

“Y/N!” I hear as I step outside, “did you forget about me?”

“Uhmmm” I look from Johnathan, who has started to make his way over to the Middle School, and back to her, “Quite the opposite actually.”


	16. Halloween, Fuck you (Year 2)

Halloween Night has got to have some demonic power behind it. Something in the air just doesn’t feel right. I could also say the same for certain moons, and calendar days. But I can at least preach that children’s excitement is buzzing so loud, I have a hard time coming up with negative thoughts.

“Oh, you four look amazing” I awe as I walk up to the four boys. Of course, I recognize their costumes; a good part of June and July had me arranging posters, and selling tons of tickets for Ghostbusters. I had to clean up during the credits multiple times, the soft theme of this pop culture hit has worn off on me. But the sentiment towards the movie has me smiling at their outfits.

“Thanks” Dustin grins widely, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Holy shit” the boy next to him, Lucas, spots Rose, “Now that is cool.”

I am full of pride, since this costume took us forever to make, and the makeup took way too much fussing about. True to Rose’s nature, we went with a horrified Cupid look. Her white dress is stained with red and black. Sewed on fake flowers adorn the hem, and trail up to her waist, with their tips painted as if they were burning. Some random vines and thorns were added to that mix. She holds a faux bow and arrow, also stained as if burnt, and covered in ‘blood’. She has a pouch on her hip, out protrudes a toy heart, dagger, and some roses. You can just imagine how intricate her hair is braided and put up, her eyelids tainted with gold and black. Her lips smeared in red. Her nails black. And her grin wider then ever.

I of course carry her jacket with me, in my backpack, just in case she gets too cold. We should have made her a cape, but she refused.

“Oh, I think my heart is the one trying to be stolen” she holds a hand over her heart as a mock gesture, then introduces her group to them.

“y/n promised not to get in the way,” she winks, “so we can pretend we don’t have a babysitter at all”

“Maybe I’m just a guard dog” I shrug. “Don’t worry, I have some music to listen to.” I wave at them, “C'est la vie, go be kids.”

I spend the night walking minimum ten steps away from the pack, looking more interested in the footpath then them. Of course, the boys keep wanting to strike up a conversation, trying to show me that it’s ok to be social and not dead weight. I’m thankful when their new friend, Billy’s sister, Max shows up. Even when I can tell she knows what I did with her brother, the way acknowledgement flashes in her eyes, she ignores me, and laughs on with the rest of the squad.

 I prefer not talking tonight because my headache is in fact, growing worse by the minute. I took the tea before going out today, but it hasn’t relieved me like it did in the past. A bad sign indeed.

I catch a bunch of kids coming out of a house, looking ready for a jump scare. It alarms me, because Will is holding a pretty expensive looking camera. I close in as fast as I can but my timing falls short as I see him get pushed to the ground.

“Hey fuckers.” I yell, running up to them, fear rising in their throats. Oh, it feels good to be a Senior. “Pull that shit one more time tonight and I’m going to dump all that candy into a river. And that’s the light punishment.” They mutter something, not an apology I believe, and run off. That’s when I notice Will is gone.

“Shit.” I look around. The road is full of kids, but not him. It’s too open for me to miss him, he was on the ground a second ago. My eyes are no use. I have to feel around then. Even with this headache.

I’m sorting through the usual, happy and excited and surprised emotions when I suddenly get a shock from what is obviously not normal. Terror. Fear in a potent, defiantly not ‘I just got scared by a lawn skeleton’ sort.

I’m running towards the source, but I don’t see anyone. Anything. He’s supposed to be here? I take another turn down some stairs. I’m meet with strained breathing, and I see the poor boy crouched into a ball, completely unaware of the world. ‘he’s having a fucking episode’ I realize, like back at the Arcade. This is not good, oh no, this is the worst news I could get right now. Because this means it’s coming back.

“Will,” My voice laced with concern as I touch him. Big mistake. Biggest of big mistakes. I’ve never dealt with such a threat before. Of course, I didn’t know what would happen when I touched him. But this is seriously worse than feeling his pain.

“Will” I say again, now seeing where is mind is trapped. A world of broken buildings, black sky, and cold. My lungs feel an unfamiliar strain on them. I look up and notice we are not alone. Something is here. It’s so big. I have to bite my cheek so hard it bleeds, so hard that I have tears in my eyes, to make sure I am not connecting with that thing. It’s so impossible not to.

“y/n?” Will’s little voice, whimpering. He looks up, scared and confused. “You…?”

“Wake up.” I almost yell, shaking him, “It’s searching for you. You can’t stay here.” I don’t even know how I know it’s searching for him. In a way, it could be obvious. He has a connection to this realm. An ability to cross the barrier. This thing might use him. But also, I feel like something is moving around us. Closer. We need to get out. I let go of him, instantly loosing sight of the darker reality, and feel the pull as Will’s mind comes with me. As soon as I note the light in my eyes, the familiarity of my surroundings, I notice someone enclosing on us. I look up to some yelling, some anxious feelings. 

“Mike.” I yell, my voice not sounding my own. It’s as if this is my first-time speaking in years, “Mike!” I yell, louder, seeing his figure appear above the stairs. “He’s down here.”

Mike runs down first, his friends, and my cousin, following.

“Will are you ok?” He knows what’s going on. The fear in Will’s eyes give that away. I found him in an episode, and he wasn’t the first to find him. I’m sure that makes Mike feel irresponsible. Even though I am the only one in this group that even understands how powerful this thing is. And I’m shaking because of it.

“I’m taking him home.” Mike says firmly, I’ve completely missed them standing up. And I just then notice Will’s hand on mine,

“She has to come with us.” He whispers, weary and exhausted, “Mike.” I know why he wants me to come along. It’s not as if I haven’t been dropping hints that I know what his mind is stressing through.

“Let’s go,” I snap into gear, the adult of the situation, moving with the two boys, and throwing back a short sentence to Rose on where to meet later. I really don’t want to talk with them about tonight. But if this is coming back, is my Empathy really the worst fact on the block?

 

* * *

 

 

Will and Mike are seated in front of me, they are paying more attention to each other then me. I am allowed to make myself a cup of tea before settling in. I wonder if this is better then being stuck at the party?

“At the Arcade, you asked me what I saw” Will says, finally addressing me. I hoped he would have been too preoccupied talking to Mike.  But I suppose this is the part we start talking sensitive information. “And now tonight…you were there with me. I don’t understand” I stay silent, holding the hot cup in between my hands. It burns the cold memories of that world away.

“What do you mean?” Mike asks, looking between us two, “Was she with you in the Upsidedown?” Huh, that’s what they call it. I didn’t know that one.

“I don’t think we were even fully there.” I exhale, “And that was my first time even seeing the place.”

“But you know it exists?”

“I know a lot of what exists,” I snap back at him, “Last year, with your Demogorgon and your psychic little girlfriend. I might not have been apart of it, but I sure as hell knew about it.”

He is so surprised. Full of caution.

“Who told you? Nancy?” I roll my eyes at his accusation

“She has nothing to do with it.”  No one does, “Mike, there is a reason I know things. The reason I could feel Will having his episode at the Arcade and the reason I could see the ‘Upsidedown’ when we came into contact tonight. I am an Empath.”

“A what?” You have got to be kidding me.

“I can feel what other people are feeling, but recently, my powers have been a lot stronger. I’m figuring out I can do a lot more then just tell if your sad. Like tonight, Will, maybe with such a strong connection to the other realm, was able to drag me into seeing what he was.”

“You have powers?” He looks at me, questioning, not fully believing but at the same time, coming to a conclusion. I am defiantly reminding him of El. I noticed he let the ‘girlfriend’ comment slide off.

“Since birth yeah.” I shrug, “It’s not been anything special. And I’m not a lab rat. I was just born with the ability of knowing others emotions, like, it’s never been something of importance to me.” I sigh and look down, “Yet ever since moving to Hawkins it’s all that I can ever think about. I mean, I actually connected with that monster. Can you even imagine what it was like, having that evil inside your head?” I’m breathless, dizzy, feeling angry and used all over again.

“Sorry.” Mike sees how sensitive I’m being about this, crossing boundaries unavoidable. “So, what did you see tonight.” I gulp down some more tea.

“I didn’t see, I felt.” I say, matter-of-fact jab, “And something out there is searching for Will.” I look at the little boy, still silent, next to Mike, unsure of the situation, “I think it wants to use Will’s link to this world. And he is not out of danger at all. But that’s all I can say. I have never dealt with these things before.” Helpless. I’m the one with a power here, and all I want to do is run away.

“Can…” Mike begins, “Can you find people? I mean, you found Will tonight. You dragged him out of an episode.” I know where this is heading, and I find myself finishing the scalding tea, before standing up to hurry away from this. Their mess. Involvement.

“I have to pick up Rose now. What I just said to you about me, doesn’t leave this room. You don’t even get to tell Lucas and Dustin.” I say the last part firmly. And order. “And also,” I have to lie now. I am ashamed about it, but I have to.

“I’m sorry Mike, wherever El is, she’s too far away for me to find.”

I leave the house ready to throw up. It humours me that I might’ve also been doing the same thing at the party. But out here, I’m learning some valuable facts. One, I can apparently be dragged into the Upsidedown via Will’s touch.

 

**_And two; I do not want to stay in this town any more._ **


	17. Bad News (Year 2)

I’m in class. I’m in pain. How common.

I talked with Mari about going away, and she jilted me for one more week. ‘One week. If it doesn’t get better, you can go. No questions asked’. But the unfortunate thing is, it’s barely been first period, and I’m regretting not yelling in her face that this was a life or death situation. Would that even have been exaggeration?

Steve seemed off this morning. Irritated, heartbroken, disorderly. The party must have set something off between him and Nancy. And for some reason, I find myself sympathizing with him. Why in the world would I want their relationship to last? It’s defiantly me reaching too deep into his head. I’m terrible at staying away from it. Apparently, Jay and Katie barely lasted the night, and ended up driving off to cause some mischief with shopping carts. I am so proud of my babies.

Lunchtime finally arrives, and I am glad for it. I’m digging into my food when Rose, who now spends lunch with her Juniors, comes up to me.

“I have an afterschool detention.”

“You do not.” Katie gasps, hand on chest, “I am so delighted with you. You bring honour to us all.” Rose looks as disappointed as she is humoured by the acted sentiment.

“Look, can I just explain what happened at home?” she sighs, I give her a nod.

“How long do I have to wait though?” this makes her pull a face.

“A while,” she admits, “But you’re reading a book right now, aren’t you?” I can waste time, I am amazing at wasting time, I am great at wasting time AND doing it with patience.

“You’re unbelievable” I groan, “Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Katie and Jay split ways with me, not bothering to stick around school with me. OK, I told them to go. I don’t want to stay much either, why drag them into this?

“You aren’t working at the cinema tonight though?” I get asked,

“No, if you want some discounted tickets, I’m on Thursday.” It’s calmed down at the cinema, no new movies really bringing in the crowds, and my shifts have been put back a little. That is alright. The headache is still persisting, so less work is better.

On this surprisingly sunny afternoon, I sit of a bench, reading a translated French novel quietly. Since the school is emptier, still housing sporting clubs, I am reviling it’s unusual quiet state. A breeze picks up, and my book pages flutter a bit. This is nice. I breath in the clean air. This is what I miss.

I all but wait a few minutes until that calm is broken. Broken by the loudest mind of the year. Do you even have to guess?

Broken-hearted Steve, still out rampaging with that head of his, probably done with basketball. Also, I did see Nancy stomp by earlier. That is defiantly a mess I need to stay away from.

Except, the mess is walking right past me.

I know, I said I like him, I confessed it to Rose, and Jay, and Katie. Accept, while I have admitted that I like him, I am in no way admitting I want to get in a relationship- with anyone. Not now. Not while I am still dealing with Empath maturity, and still loving my single life. And of course, I am not here to suddenly become friends with this boy. One who I find so many flaws in. Overdramatic, thick-headed, and largely irritating. And I am crushing on him. That counts as a flaw.

He feels more defeated then he looks, it was obviously a bad practice match. I did hear Billy was good at playing. I don’t know how it feels to lose the role from number one at school. I didn’t grow up in the system, the only status that mattered was ingrained in tribes, group leaders, rich, and boarder patrollers that were a pain in the ass.

I don’t have time to hide, it would look too conspicuous if he just saw me up and leave. But I also don’t have time to prepare for the swamp of emotion that crashes into me. Amplified, and sudden. I find myself crying, without warning, and doing my best to look down. Look at the book. The book is sad, not Harrington. I’m crying because, oh fuck it. He stopped.

“I don’t get how you’re so unhappy.” Half a year of radio silence from this guy, and that’s how he breaks the wordlessness between us? All he had to do was keep walking until he was too far from me, too far from me to feel his pain, and cry his tears.

“You’re the unhappy one.” I growl back, my book a barrier between us. “These aren’t my tears.” He looks confused, but fury rises up in his unstable condition.

“They aren’t your tears?” He takes a step forward, cross, I’m not scared. “Are you saying, your crying because of me?”

“’I’m saying,” I lean in, wiping at my face, I hope I look as strong as I feel, “That you’re the one crying inside, and you are just passing on that emotion to me Steve. Stop being so fucking loud with your emotions, it’s infuriating and I can’t handle it.”

“How do you know how I feel?”  Accusation, we are yelling at each other now. Empty courtyard, just us two. Facing off about useless things.

“Because I’m an Empath Harrington.” I cry out, “I can feel what everyone in school is feeling. But for some bloody reason, you have the loudest emotions, and they aren’t even positive!”

That’s three times in the span of a week I’ve told someone I’m an Empath. Damn, Halloween might have cursed me.

“Are you being serious right now?” He backs down, I mean, if El had powers, why wouldn’t someone else too?

“Yes,” I snap my teeth, not any less angry, “Remember; I don’t have panic attacks”

“Georgia does.” He finishes, exasperated. Oh, he actually caught on. There is a pause of silence between us. I don’t like it. But he has calmed down, and I’ve stopped crying.

“You shouldn’t know this.” I say jumping up, stuffing my book in my bag, “We are not going to continue this conversation.” I’m moving back towards the building, he tries to stop me.

“Why are not going to address this? Y/n wait.”

“No” I twirl around, trying to project my anger in between us both, the only emotion I can rely on that isn’t heart-break, or concern, or even the shyness of talking to a crush. “Don’t you get it? You have such a loud mind, I hate being near you. It never shuts up. You never shut up. You are the one that makes me unhappy” Low blow, I’m such a bitch, “Just piss off.”

I just about run away from him, because I know he’s hurt. I don’t want to feel it, the addition of two people in this school putting him down. That sadness is way too clear, and I still find myself walking out of the High school grounds, and into the Middle school, just to escape the choke of Steve’s emotions.

No here, I find something completely different.

“What fucking now?” Its only been a few minutes of my last encounter, and now I’m feeling something else. ‘Shit,’ I realize. ‘Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck’ I start running. Running hard enough to forget the past few minutes, and remember Friday night. I am now sprinting to Will, too fully aware that he is in danger.

He’s already surrounded when I arrive on the oval. Standing upright, mind miles away, Convulsing. And it strikes a memory into my head.

I was 13, and it was summer in Bulgaria. I was traveling with a caravan, when we had a mishap with one of the children. He was young, around 8 I think. He started behaving strangely, warier of the others, not playing our games. He barely ate, and stared off into the distance most of his days. Then one night, the screaming started. He was thrashing, kicking, screaming, biting. He started yelling in a language I did not speak, and his eyes were pure rage. One of the leaders put him down, started praying or chanting. The little boy at that point was convulsing, eyes rolling back, growling and jerking around. We had to go to a church the next day. I cannot tell you if it was religion, or spiritual warfare (heck, why not both) that brought him back; scared and disoriented. But I will not forget that night, of the never-ending screaming, inhuman, suffering.

I look at Will, and I know now that it’s happening. Possession. In broad daylight.

I run up, not knowing how I could possibly be of any help. I look at Mike helplessly.

“Do something” He yells, I have nothing to offer back. My eyes reflect what I truly am; A coward. Full of power, and in no way helpful. I reach out my hand to touch Will, who is already being shaken by his mother. Again, sight is given to me, the moment my hand connects with his shoulder.

It’s everywhere. The black, swirling, mist of some sort. I feel isolated in this fear, taking in the sight of this gigantic mass entering Will. It’s victorious, and filled will this loathing and fury, so powerful. I am frozen in fear, this is beyond what I thought was going to be. I can’t stop it from entering Will. It’s almost finished, and if I were to touch it, I am afraid it would take me too.

I fall back, yanking myself from his body. Eyes are staring at me, wondering what in the hell I just did. What in the hell happened.

“It’s too late,” I stand and grab Mike, “He let him in. Oh god, I am so sorry.” I am trembling. I need to get away from this. There is no way I can do anything. No way. And if it gets a hold of me, it might use me. I don’t even know the extent of my own power. It could.

“Where are you going” He yells at me, “What was let it?”

“Something powerful. Terrifyingly powerful” My vocal chords strain, I basically cry, and I turn and run. I have got to grab Rose, detention finished or not.

I am out of here. I do not care for this shit anymore. I care about my life.

 

* * *

 

 

Here’s the thing. When I grabbed Rose out of detention, telling the teacher it was a family emergency, I had the full intention of driving home (which I did, at top speed) and packing my bags (which I started). But the moment Aunt Mari came into my room, seeing my disheveled state, telling me to calm down, I broke into incoherent sobs, and realized I didn’t even have the energy to get off the floor.

“It’s worse then I could have even imagined” I bawl into her arms, she knows how I feel, I can’t even control who gets to right now. It’s just pouring out of me.

“Sweetheart, you have to take it slow.” She fights tears, my tears, “Deep breaths” I can’t though. I’m hyperventilating. I’m panicking.

“I think- I think I’m going to faint” I cry out, seeing my vision blurring, not an unusual occurrence.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry” I hear Mari’s voice, echoing, as I pass out. I don’t even think this is a bad thing. My body just has a defense mechanism. Don’t hurt anyone, just stop functioning. And I welcome the darkness of my mind. It’s so quiet when I’m alone in here. I think I want to stay.


	18. The Night I Disappeared (Year 2)

I’m not sure if I’m still dreaming, or awake. It’s dark now. In a bed. A soft bed. I feel like sinking into it. Further. Being enveloped in the comfort of it. But something is calling me. I can’t hear it, it’s like a tugging at my chest. I don’t want to let it down. It needs me to follow it.

I stand up, lucid, and put on some shoes, and a jumper. Quickly, it needs me to go. I climb out of my window instead, into the garden outside. I can’t tell anyone where I am going. I just need to. Now. Fast. Don’t disturb my family.

I take my bike out, and hurry towards the other end of this rope. It’s so far away, but it is so strong. I can’t help but be pulled along by it. I’m not scared, I don’t even feel tired as my legs push the bike to go faster and faster, towards the town, past the town, the sleepy town. I have to go further, no matter the darkness, the cold, the mist. I can’t concentrate on them. Nothing matters.

I am suddenly off my bike, thrown carelessly, and running through a forest. Up the hill. Up up up. My legs feel greater then they have ever felt. I’ve never run with such ease in my life. My lungs don’t even burn. It’s fine. I am perfectly fine. Even when the big scary dog, scaly and eyeless… no, it’s a monster, comes near me, I don’t care. It pads over to me, curious, hungry. It screams. ‘Pathetic’ I give it a fleeting thought. Dogs are much cuter. I scream back at it, forcing fear into it’s every nerve. The creature runs from me. Of course it does, we have no business together.

I am just up the hill when I look over. It suddenly dawns upon me that I know where I am. I can see Hawkins lab from this view, even though that is not the direction I need to go, I feel a sense of something. Something I know. The tug tells me to forget about it, it’s not my concern. But I protest. I know this feeling. It’s the concern of someone I know.

Then behind me, movement, running. The noise startles me. Wait, why am I outside?

“Y/n?” A confused Steve, and his kids, come over the hill. Out of breath, and looking behind me at the Lab. ‘His kids?’ my head is not in the right place, I realize. I’m floating, but it is as if I can see through the haze. The tugging is trying hard to get to me, but this is Steve we’re talking about. I can never seem to avoid him.

“Steve.” I say it like a question. I am still facing the lab, my head turned to look at the group as they approach. I can’t seem to feel anything but calm. I look at him for a bit, before making a disinterested face, turning my attention to the lab. ‘I can’t talk to him, we had a fight.’ A childish voice tells me.

“y/n what are you doing here?” Steve persists, walking up towards me, the kids already miles ahead of him on that one. There are noises coming from the building. More ugly dog monsters. I don’t like them at all. Of course, I don’t want to go there. Why do they?

“I’m standing here, what do you think?” I laugh. Silly question. I don’t know why that’s concerning him. I’m fine. Better then fine. I don’t even know why we were arguing before.

“y/n, do you even know where you are?” he moves in front of me, blocking my view. Searching my eyes, assessing my body language. He finds something he doesn’t like, or doesn’t trust. What is so different about me? I look back at him. I like his face.

“I have to go somewhere” I suddenly say, the tugging is back. It knows I want to follow Steve, I like going where he is going, but the tugging feels more important. That’s a bummer. Does it know I like him? I’m sure it knows. That’s why it’s trying to separate us. Wait… is it trying to separate us?

“I don’t think we should leave her alone.” Lucas speaks up, “She’s an Empath, remember?”

“Heyy”, my voice slurred in giddiness, “Who told you that? It was to be. Top. Secret,” I pop the last two words. I’m not actually worried that they know what I am. At this point, who cares?

“Mike told us after the Will’s episode at the oval” Lucas says, I make an ‘awww’ sound. Mike that little liar, can’t keep a secret. Well, in all honesty, I told him I didn’t know where El was, “I don’t think-”

“I know, she told me, don’t worry.” Steve cuts him off, “So do you think that’s the reason she’s out here?”

“Yeah. Maybe that monster has a hold on her,” I scoff at Lucas’s words.

“He’s grumpy and pushhyyy” I tilt my head over at the forest behind me, “I don’t want to follow him at all. I have to go somewhere else.” They all look at me, concerned. Why is it so concerning?

“Yeah, those words are not promising” Max speaks up, sassy as ever. I enjoy her voice. It’s nicer then her brothers. “I’m sorry, but your going to have to come with us.”

I take a step back, I have other important things to do. I can’t go closer to that building. It’s bad news.

But Steve takes my hand, and I am compelled to follow with him. The rope suddenly slack. It’s stopped calling for me. But I feel it is upset. ‘I promise I’ll come back’ I reassure it with my thoughts, if it can even hear me, ‘I don’t want to let go of Steve’s hand, I’m sorry.’

I follow along through the forest, only moving forward when my hand is being held.

“Are you feeling ok?” He asks me, I am hyperaware of how much his voice comforts me, I adore it.

“I like your bat.” I reply, holding his hand even tighter, “A fitting weapon, were you fighting something?”

“She is high out of her mind” Lucas retorts, “I don’t know what the hell as got into her head.”

“Doesn’t sound dangerous.” Max adds, “I mean, all she’s done is give Steve moon eyes, and she doesn’t even want to go to the Lab” Am I really looking at him like that?

“You can’t say moon eyes,” I sing song, “Katie is the Queen of the Moon. I’m the Star Queen, so how about say starry eyed?” the group chuckles. I don’t know what’s so funny, but I laugh with them.

“Always a handful” Steve shakes his head, I don’t want him to worry. I’m the one that should be concerned with where they are going. The Lab smells bad. It’s bad news over there.

“But you’ve got two hands?” He gives me a contemplating look, our hands swaying, as we all hurry across the forest. I like how warm they are. I think heat is important right now. But I don’t know why.

We finally reach the last downhill point, and come into the clearing of the Lab’s entrance. Johnathan is yelling at us.

“Steve?”

“Nancy?

“Johnathan?

“y/n?”

That was so funny. I let go of Steve’s hand, a little reluctantly, and run like an excited child at a fair.

“Oh my gosh you two. SO happy. Congratulations.” I look at the confused couple. I am confused they don’t get what I’m talking about. It’s radiating off of them. “You’ve connected now. I can feel it. It’s pretty strong, am I….” I turn to my group, my head in a laundry cycle, “…not being clear?”

“Did she hit her head?” Nancy asks, I laugh. Maybe.

“She’s an Empath. She can’t help it” Dustin says. I’m sure he’s been talking a lot more then I’ve heard him talk. But I am finding hard to hear people.

“Like, a psychic?”

“Noooo silly.” I give Nancy a reassuring smile. Everyone keeps calling me a psychic, “I can feel what anything everyone is feeling. It’s so hard sometimes.”

“But looks as if something got a hold of her. She’s out of her mind right now.”

“Stop worrying, I’m fine. The people inside aren’t though.” And suddenly I’m feeling sick. It’s like becoming sober again, slowly. “Actually, I need to sit down.” My voice is less chipper now.

I am put inside a locked car for safekeeping. Which sucks. I can’t be next to Steve, and I can’t even go out and follow the tugging. Arrested. I close my eyes, and decide to sleep it off. I’m sure they are talking important stuff outside. And I’m hit with another wave of nausea. This is not mine, nor the tugging, nor anyone outside. ‘Oh’ I realize ‘I’m falling asleep to escape it’. It being the monster. It being the strong force I feel around Hawkins. My mind goes blank once more.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey. Hey” I’m being shaken awake, rather rudely. “Oh my god.” It’s Steve. The door is open, and we are at a different location. The Byer’s house, I recognize, as I look outside. “You sleep like the dead”

“No.” I my voice a melodic whisper, “I pass out to forget the pain.” He goes stiff, half inside, half in the freezing outside.

“It’s called the Mind Flayer.” Oh, so they gave this one a name too. Not it’s real name, but I like this one a little better.

“Yeah, that thing. I don’t like how it feels. I needed to….” I drift off a little, “I needed to go somewhere.” Where is the tugging? I want it back. I need to go. This is a bad place to be.

“You have to get inside the house.” He says sternly, like I am a child to be scolded. I don’t care. It’s cold out here anyways.

“Help me up please” I have him pull me out of the car, and I don’t let go of him. I’ve never touched him this much in my life. Ever. Its actually really fun. The way I can make my heart jump from making skin contact. Everything is so funny, apart from me still being here.

“Are you going to pass out again?” He asks inside, where I see the kids milling around the drawings, all on their toes, all raging to go.

“Oh, hi liarrrr” I say, waving to Mike, “you are not good with secrets at all.”

“You were the one talking about possession right in front of everyone” He claps back. Yeah, he has a fair point.

“I have to tell you then, I was lying that night.” I say moving to a bedroom. It’s probably Joyce’s. “Since we don’t like keeping secrets form one another.” But I don’t finish my sentence. I just keep moving. “Steve it’s ok, I am going to pass out again” I let go of his arm. I know what I’m about tell Mike is going to make him so mad. But now my consciousness is slipping, I don’t think I will make it.

“What?” Mike follows me into the room, urgently, unfollowed. “Lying about what?”

“El” I say simply, “You don’t have to worry about her right now, please. You have Will to worry about.”

“What were you lying about?” He says, face desperate and so, so angry.

“Don’t be so serious, boy.” I am actually seeing black now, and lie down on the bed, shoes kicked off.  “I just found her, that’s all. She’s fineee...”

“Where?” He demands, but I’m already drifting off,

“Worry about other things,” My mind drifts off, “You’ll find out… soon …enough…”

 

* * *

 

 

I am instantly awoken by the tug, like being gripped by my soul and physically pulled up. It’s urgent. I was avoiding it. I forgot about it. I went off with other people, I shouldn’t have. I am in danger if I stay here. “but what danger?’.  I get up, forget to put on my shoes, and head out into the living room, surprising everyone, in the heat if an argument.

“y/n?” someone asks. I look around at the faces.

“Bad. Something bad is coming.”

“What?” Max questions, head toward me.

“I can feel him. He’s really angry. I think….” I tilt my head, the tug telling me to just get out of there. The room stays silent, I continue. “Just make sure you stay safe. I have to go now.”

“No, y/n, you’re not allowed to leave” Steve moves in to grab my arm, this time, the touch has no effect.

“You can babysit them, Steve. You can’t control me.” I look up at him, my dementor suddenly fierce, “I. Have. To. Go.” I shake him off, and start off to the back door, “Keep them safe Harrington.”

He can’t stop me. I don’t let him move. That’s the only way.

I head out into the night. It’s great, the wind, the sky, the stars. I can feel myself being pulled away again. Nothing can stop me this time. I am running, flying, into the woods. Up the hills, keeping up with the wolves, never stopping.

I don’t need to stop. I am perfectly happy, out here, my feet bare, my clothes thin, my hair whipping around me. I don’t feel pain, or torment. The further away from Hawkins, the better. The further from that thing, the Mind Flayer, the better.

Towards the tug. It feels safe, I don’t know what it is, but it is safe. I think. Because nothing has ever felt more astounding, wonderful, nothing has ever made me feel so happy. I laugh into the night, spiriting, chasing, racing through the woods.

 

_I don’t notice the part where I lose my mind._

 


	19. Lost and Found and holy shit get me a bandaid (Part 2)

I am slightly aware of the cold against my skin. That’s the first sign that I am waking up. My mouth feels parched, and my stomach empty. And my feet hurt tremendously. I look up at the sky as see the sun. It’s late afternoon, I think. I am walking in a direction for some reason. I can’t hear anything, I comprehend, the world is hazy and coming into focus. I feel hot, wet tears on my face, and I realize with a sick feeling in my gut why. Because I am flooded with the memories of the day I was loopy, the day I felt like I was in a dream. The way I just took off into the night, and didn’t even bother with shoes. I don’t even feel like this happened, but a cognitive part of me knows it did.

Where did I go? What was I following? And most importantly, how long was I gone? I panic as I struggle for breaths, falling to my knees. I don’t remember what happened after the forest, the running. Nothing at all. Mind blank. Again. Again, again, again, I am violated.

My hands feel around my body, trying to find something amiss. Although there are no broken bones, I feel my sore, bleeding feet, and awfully, my almost naked form, just some badly torn panties. My only clothes. When did I lose my socks? My pants, my top, my jacket? I feel my ears. Thank god, my earrings are still there.

I am covered in dirt, mud, scratches that are mostly clotted. A few bruises. But nothing that isn’t self-inflicted. I am crying all over again. Then I feel another presence. I realize, that is why I was pushed out of my haze. I felt something, someone, out in the woods. Something that severed my ties to the, well, thing. And now I can hear a faint cry.

My name is being called, over and over again. I realize I know this part of the forest. It’s closer to Hawkins, I was walking back home. And someone is looking for me. Heck, I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone, there is probably a search team out for me.

‘What have I done?’

I start down towards the presence I felt, knowing full well who it is. Because yet again, I cannot avoid him. The last person I saw, and the first one to welcome me back.

“Steve” My voice horse, I must not have had water in days, and my vocal chords feel used. As if I was screaming a lot. I don’t remember that. I don’t remember anything.

He looks up startled at my approaching footsteps. He is frazzled, tired, and so relieved when he realizes it’s me.

“Oh my God, y/n!” yes, that’s my name. I walk down to meet him, hands coving my exposed body. He strips his jacket instantly, and wraps it around me. It’s warm, and that surprises me. I’m flooded with that body heat, as if heat was a new to me. Have I been cold this entire time?

“y/n, are you ok? What happened? You are bleeding, how bad are you hurt? Where have you been, we’ve been looking everywhere-” But I’m grabbing his hand, and moving us down, out of the forest. “Y/n?”

I can’t talk. I’m sure he’s already seen my red rimmed eyes, so the tears coming back aren’t a surprise. And soon, I’m full on bawling, walking down the hill, my arch nemesis, my crush, my saviour, Steve, pulling us away.

“Just get me out of here.” I sob out. He stops me suddenly, and moves in front.

“Your feet are bleeding, let me carry you back.” I take that offer graciously. The pain of my running taking its toll, everywhere to be exact. My legs, my arms, my lungs. I courteously collapse into a piggy back, and sob some more into his shoulder.

He thankfully doesn’t press for any questions.

On the way down, we bump into more volunteers, Steve telling them to call off the search.

“How long have I been gone?” I ask, mumbling into his shoulder. I’m shivering, leeching off his body heat.

“Not including that night we saw you last, three days.”

I almost stop breathing. I cannot remember the entirety of three days. Now the trembling isn’t just from the cold.

We exit the forest, and see a collective of people, the search team, and the police. This is where I dropped my bike, I realize. So, I ended up going this way….

Steve carries me to the on-site ambulance, it was waiting for me. Just in case. I hold onto his jacket tightly. Then I am swamped with some familiar, some foreign, faces. I don’t care. I lay down inside, escorted by some medics, and am taken to the nearest hospital. No one accompanies me on the drive, I realize.

 

* * *

 

 

I am in that hospital for half a week. My aunt and cousin crying next to me, telling me about the morning I went missing, the panic all over town. Of course, they also tell me how glad they are that I am back safe, and mostly intact. I am not given any visitor allowances apart from my family. The doctors try find something wrong with me. After I got medical attention, I was put through all sorts of tests. X-rayed, blood taken, urine, speech and eye function. I had multiple questions asked about those days. None of which I could answer. It was, officially in the books, written as head trauma.

Jim Hopper, Chief of Police, arrived for interrogation. He was part of that night’s events, and surely, he could understand my situation. Not that I fully understand it. Alone in my room, drip in my arm, we chat in secrecy.

“The kids told me you are an Empath” He says, unsurprised, just a declaration.

“True.” I say, looking at my hands, which now have little scars on them.

“Now, I suppose whatever you’re about to tell me, is not going to be an official statement.” I nod.

“I don’t have any memories after running into the woods that night, I’m not lying about it. Honesty, it freaks me out too.” I look in his eyes, “I don’t remember where I was for half a week. Do you know how much that scares me?” I see understanding in his eyes, pity too. “I just remember feeling overwhelmed that morning when Will was possessed. Then I passed out at home. My body has started to do that as a mechanism to deal with intense emotions during my…. I’d say, the evolution of my abilities. I woke up because something got a hold of me. It wanted me to come to it. It wasn’t your ‘Mind Flayer’. Completely different feel. It was…” I think of the right words to use. “Trusting, I felt safe with it. And I had a compelling felling to follow it. It pulled me across, I felt like I was drugged up. I didn’t feel pain, or anger, or fear. I was content. And I felt like something important was waiting for me.”

“Do you think you found it?”

“Yes” I breath out. I don’t know what, but I am sure I had an encounter with it. “That’s why I was heading back to Hawkins. It let me go. My mind came back when Steve found me.” Steve, who carried me down the hill, who got me back safe, who’s jacket I had Aunt Mari wash and deliver back. Also, the Steve that left me alone on the trip to the Hospital.

“Has anyone told you how that night ended?” He asks, I am suddenly remembering that no one has.

_“Please tell me.”_


	20. Vexation & Broken Glass (Year 2)

I am discharged soon after that, and allowed to go back to school. I don’t want to, but Jay and Katie, Dear Lord, I want to see them badly. They tried to get into the hospital, but for some reason, were turned down. I arrive early, Aunt Mari drove us to school.

“I put cookies in your lunchbox.” She winks at me, “For emergency.”

I step outside, and spot them by the gate. I am running before they see me, and when they do, they are running right back at me.

“y/n, y/n, argh, I missed you so, so much. I was scared you died!” Katie pulls me into a fierce hug, tears springing to her face. Jay embraces us both, then Rose joins in on the other side.

“I will never die on you; how senseless do you think I am?” I cry back, holding them in my arms. The overwhelming feelings of love washing over me. I think we are all crying now.

 We all stay like that for a minute or so. Just crying and mumbling how happy we all are. I have never felt so welcomed. I am grateful for what I have here. Even though I know by the end of this semester, I am heading home. And I am going to be devastated to break the news. To tell them I am not finishing school with them. But for right now, I fell this hug fill me back up with the energy that was leeched from me, those days I was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Friday, mid-November, I started feeling normal again. For the 2 weeks following my disappearance, I felt weak. Drained. My Emphatic abilities on the low down. I am grateful for it, I would not have had the strength to stop myself from acting on emotional impulses.

Therefore, it was odd waking up that Friday, remembering I was still a normal teenager, going through a not so normal Empathic Maturity. The strength in my body was a blessing, as if to say ‘you are fine’. But it also meant back to the grind. Don’t mess with anyone. Keep your head straight.

Over these past two weeks, I have been avoiding a few things. That forest for one. The topic of my disappearance, second. And although I have let myself be questioned by the group that knows the truth of Hawkins, being the young boys, Max, Nancy, Johnathan, and Joyce. I have yet to find myself talking to Steve. Anyone would find that a bad sign. But I think both of us, mutually, don’t want to talk about that day for good reason. It was traumatic. It’s not something to bond over.

Homeroom is the worst. I know, I love Katie and Jay, but having to feel his presence in the room rather dismisses my friends to my brain. A constant reminder that I have unfinished business, and I don’t want to address it. I pretend I can’t feel his emotions. I don’t want anything to be true. Nothing that isn’t complete dismissal and apathy. But he’s also in my last period today, and I can feel his urgency for a talk. I am not here for that.

Rose is going out to a sleepover, so I don’t have to bring her home today. I take my time when the final period rings, lengthening my trip to my locker. I wonder what I’m doing tonight. It’s Friday, I could go out anywhere. The weekend is full of opportunity.

My headache slaps me in the face, reminding me nothing is in the clear until I am. I am near the nurse’s office anyways. Why not quickly walk in and get some painkillers? That would also throw Steve off my scent.

After I duck in, catching the nurse at the end of her day, I swallow the pills and hope for the best. I have to drive back home. I need to be alert. I start walking down the partially empty halls, and get into my locker. I don’t think I’ll need many books this weekend. Tests got me rolling my eyes. I’m not going to finish next semester, so it doesn’t matter.

I close the door to my locker, taking a steadying breath in. I know who’s waiting for me. I hoped after class he would just give up. He really waited.

Steve doesn’t even need to corner me afterschool, there is plenty of opportunity to just catch me at lunch or at the cinema, but no, he decided to wait. Maybe seeing me in person triggered a thought. Like telling yourself you won’t buy something, but when you see it, you do anyways.

“Hi,” He starts, wavering between friendly, and uncertain. I walk away. “No, this is not fair, don’t run from me.”

“I thought we had a silent agreement to not talk. You’ve been doing so well all month.” I snap back at him, not turning my head. My anger is too fuelled right now, too potent. I notice a bunch of Juniors walk ahead of me, probably planning to use the empty basketball courts.

“I was just giving you space.” He catches up to me, and so do the Juniors.

I didn’t notice the way I was concentrating my anger, but it seems I got this boy locked down. I don’t know his name, but as he walks past, he thinks for a moment. He’s in the throwing mood, basketball in hand, and I’m just flooding is system with my own rage. I must have confused him so much, because soon his eyes lay on me, and the ball is whirling towards me, thrown at great speed, but terrible accuracy. He is going to regret the next three seconds, all because I really didn’t pay attention.

I duck forward, ball missing me by miles, and crashing into the glass cabinet behind me. Fucking hell, that is a loud sound.

Glass shatters, spraying the floor and trophies inside alike. We are all silent for five seconds. Shocked. Dazed. Nervous. We are waiting for a signal, a clue that we have been caught, which happens very soon. A teacher’s voice echoes down a hall, and we look around at each other, suddenly all guilty.

“Scatter.” I stage whisper, unexpectedly grabbing onto Steve’s wrist, and running, while the Juniors take off in another direction.

“What just happened?”

“My fault, sorry.” I call back, looking around for an exit, or hiding point. There has to be a way around this teacher. How in the hell will I explain a boy randomly throwing his basketball at me? I’ve dragged too many people into my mess.

“You can make people do that?” His sounds way too impressed for the situation at hand.

“Open janitors’ closet, or jump out a window?” I think out loud. The footsteps are approaching. I check the classroom door nearest to us. Locked. “You are going to hate me” I shove us both into the empty cupboard. There is barely space for both of us, at the same time, there was barely any time before we were caught.

“Shh” I hiss at him, listening out, feeling around for the teacher, who is now in the same hall we were just in. We are both deadly silent as the footsteps come closer. I squeeze my eyes shut. I have power right now, I can do this. Will them away, not that difficult. The footsteps come, stop for a moment, and move towards a classroom. I hear a door open and shut. The footsteps move further down the hall, but just stop.

“We’ve had a cabinet smashed,” They say, voice distant. I realize, heart sinking, they are speaking with another teacher. ‘Oh fuck, the school might go into alert now’. I really hope those Juniors made it out of here. We haven’t. Yet.

Fun fact; I did not notice how close I was to my partner in hiding. In actuality, I was trying not to pay attention to it. I’m leaning up against a near empty shelf, trying to distance us. Now that I have nothing to concentrate on, my attention is all on him now.

His body is radiating heat, and our breaths are a little ragged after that run, mixing in the spall space. It’s barely lit, with the small panelled window in the top corner of the far wall, but I still find myself taking in his details. Comparing his height to mine, eyes roaming over his figure. The bulk of his arms, a lean chest. Have I really hidden away my attraction to this?

 He swallows, and I realize it’s because he is doing the same to me. Studying each other. Last we were this close, was when I was being rescued. Naked, bleeding and crying. Now, we are high on fear and adrenaline, hiding because of a broken cabinet.

For a chatterbox, I have not seen Steve as a boy who can easily run out of words to say. Nevertheless, he is particularly quiet at this moment. And that makes me uneasy.

I have been hiding away from a few things. I may have not been telling myself outright, but I know that when Rose told me I was making Steve avoid me, I have also been manipulating him into something else; Not liking me. I supressed any affection he had towards me. Because I’ve said it many times; I am a coward. At many things actually, monsters and relationships alike. I was scared at recuperating feelings, because if it was only me with the crush, it would be easier to deal with. I was hoping he didn’t break with Nancy for a sole reason of not having to come to terms with that one scary emotion. Love. And he did feel a bunch of it towards me.

This whole story I’ve been complaining about heartbreak, even though I was the one pushing him away? Even though, for these past weeks, he has been single, and I still continued with my persistent need for suffering? I contradict myself all the time; Wanting him to like me subconsciously, and pushing him away purposefully. Why did I even try make him jealous if I was going to eradicate those feelings later? Every time he left me, he must have felt muddled, because when he left my vicinity, he gained control of his emotions again. He went back to liking me, when I wasn’t around. Maybe Steve caught onto that when he learned I was an Empath.

But these past weeks, and especially that night of my ‘head in the clouds’ state, I didn’t mess with him. I didn’t care for trying. I liked the way his own heart was beating when our hand’s touched.  So, I am sure he’s had time to think about why he had these emotional swings around me. When was I not controlling him to be honest? Very few occasions. The start of school, the panic attack in the bathroom. And now. Now I was not hiding his emotions. But a janitor’s closet is really the worst place I could have stopped downplaying his attraction.

“y/n, what are you doing?” I’m unexpectedly asked. What am I doing? I panic at the question, because I haven’t moved. I haven’t been so still in my life. If anything, it’s what I am not doing, which is thinking of plan to get out of here. I’m accusing my Empathy going astray, still haywire and tough to control. I assess him, reaching out emotionally, and the results are not good.

He’s leaning on the wall behind him, hands supporting him, looking down at the floor, almost pained. His breaths are ragged, escaping his parted lips in short bursts, mouth wet. His eyes almost shut, hooded, like he’s fighting against closing them. I can smell his cologne this close, and whatever silly hair products he uses. Which actually work in his favour, I’m not in a place to insult that.

His desire is peaking. Want, Lust. Swirling pink and red, crawling through his ribs, spreading through his arms, making his head fuzzy. His Adams apple bobs quickly, and I see a trickle of sweat on his neck. I can’t stop that. I just amplified my anger only a few minutes ago, I made some poor kid throw a basketball at me with such furiousness and fervour, you’d think it was his life mission to hit me in the face. I’m the problem here.

“Steve your going to have to fight it.” I am well aware of how he’s feeling, it’s so strong, so desirable. A sweet call, an arousal spreading. If I were a more modest person, I wouldn’t have looked down at the budge in his pants. Now I’m the one sweating.

“Can’t” He voice strained and raspy, “I thought that was your job.” It is. I can’t do it. Try as I might, the bridge back has been burned, and all I’m doing is intensifying this feeling. I suppose, cursing at myself, we’ll have to go through it.

“Then be quiet.” I say, thinking over my plan. I can’t separate us, too many people around to walk out safely. I stretch out my arms in this enclosed space, and take the trembling boy by the neck, pressing him into the crook of my collar in embrace. He whines at my touch, and my throat tenses, heart flutters, at the feel of his hot breath against me. I can get this over with quickly, though I’ve never been in such a situation. I’m high off his own arousal within seconds of touching his bare skin.

I’m unrestrained, instead of holding back, and letting his physical arousal grow tenfold. His emotional state surges; arms wrap around me, body pushed into mine, pushing me firmly into the cabinet. He’s starting to whimper and moan, grinding against my crooked knee. I’m flushed, swallowing down my own thoughts, failing at not thinking about his erection, about him getting off on me.

He opens his mouth, biting down onto my sweater covered neck, the same place Billy once had the audacity to mark. It feels more natural with Steve, my body approving of his touch more. He’s very lost at this point, whining, softly saying my name. I push him closer to the edge. I didn’t even know this was possible.

I still have my hands on the nape of his neck, and use them to push him further into me, smothering the sounds; I him to be as quiet as possible. I pay no attention to my own arousal, the wetness between my legs, the rubbing against my breasts, and of course, how my own breathing sounds. He can probably hear how hard my heart is pounding.

His legs finally begin to tremble, moves more sporadic and his hips jerk a few more times. Then all movement is halted as he reaches his high, crashing. Steve’s arms squeeze me, his body going ridged, mouth open, helplessly moaning into my sweater, and he orgasms. I feel the heat of this cum through his jeans, and quietly sigh as I realize this means he has to orientate himself now, back to his senses.

Steve has to realize I pushed him into having an orgasm, in the most awkward of situations, in a bloody janitors’ closet. And not even with much psychical stimulation. Though, he didn’t get off purely with my overwhelming abilities.

“Fuck.” He doesn’t let go of me, his high coming down, breathing settling. I remain still, unsure of what happens next. I can’t seem to remember how to function. My face is hot, I’m not even intaking oxygen, my mind is a buzz of embarrassment, and the emotions of someone’s else’s orgasm rush through me. Not only that, but I don’t think I actually want to leave his embrace. We’ve never hugged before, have we?

 It’s soft, and safe.

This is dumb. I need to get us out.

“We… we have to get you cleaned up.” I say, pushing him away, though he is reluctant to let go. “I can get us to the nearest bathroom.”

“Are we not going to address what just happened?” I roll my eyes. It’s too soon in this embarrassing, erratic situation to be having a one-on-one rundown of the events.

“It was an accident.” I apologize, words as firm as I can make them. “Now let’s get out of here.”

We make it to the bathrooms, I leave him in the boys, and walk into the girls. The mirror tells me a story of messy hair, blushing cheeks, and very astonished eyes. I wash my face. I can’t wash off anything else, like memories, embarrassment, awkwardness. And not his scent, clinging to my clothes. The memory of him grinding on me makes me shiver. My sweater is still tad damp from saliva, and I don’t even find that gross…. Which is gross.

I exit before he does. I don’t know if I should wait, I don’t want to.  But he comes out a few seconds later, answering that question.

“We are to leave this building, and never speak of what just happened again.”

“y/n…” He trails off, voice just above a whisper. He's not not content with that, but also very tired. Today's events have drained us both, so I don't think even he has the energy to argue with me.

“ _Please_.” He can see in my eyes I am not lying, or being selfish. I’m actually pleading.

And so that's over.

When we exit, sidestepping all teachers we might’ve bumped into, I don’t even wave him goodbye.

 

_How did I even manage to dig a hole that deep?_


	21. Snowflake Forgiveness

I have never been to a school dance before. Never had the opportunity to join one. Neither am I going to. But when the Snowball organizers where collecting volunteers to help out, I decided to join in with event staff. I was leaving in a few days, why not enjoy a little bit of the fun.

That was my original plan, when things were doing fine. I had been all over with the decoration, the sound system set-up, and lighting. I was supposed to help next around the snack stalls, but I was suddenly overcome with sickness. This time, I cannot say it was paranormal.

“Nance” I walk up to my colleague, I’ve defiantly grown closer to her these past few weeks, “I’m going to try find a lift home, I don’t feel so well.”

“Oh shoot, is it bad?”

“I can’t tell yet. But I want to leave just in case.”

“Alright, take care.” I wave her off, leaving her to man the punch bowl.

I was supposed to take a lift home with her and Johnathan, I have no car outside. Maybe I’ll have to call Aunt Mari. But first off, fresh air.

“Dustin” I say, surprised at his appearance by the door, “You are looking great.”

“Thanks” He smiles, tiny blush. Then he sees my state, “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I would have defiantly saved a dance for you, but I’m feeling sick. It doesn’t matter, you’re going to have a great night.” I give him a light hug.

“Thanks, I will” he waves at me, I wave back.

When I walk outside, I notice the familiar shade of Steve’s car. Of course, the hair looked similarly styled on Dustin, Steve probably dropped him off. He’s looking inside as I approach, I don’t have to wonder who he’s looking at. It’s understandable. Right now, I’m more interested in getting home though. He’s allowed to be sad over his break up.

He notices me as I approach the window, defiantly caught off guard.

“Y/n” he clears his throat, “Uh, Good evening”

“Yes, looks to be like one.” The weather is favourable. “Look, I wasn’t feeling too good, and I don’t have a ride home right now. Can I hassle you to give me a lift?” I don’t know if I want it to be a yes or no. Though, a no would feel like rejection. I shiver as the wind blows though my light jumper.

“Yeah, sure” I’m relieved, and hop into the passenger seat.

We take off. I think about my numbered days. We have so much hanging in between us; do I even want to leave it empty? I can at least try, right? Try to explain myself, apologize, remind him that most of what has happened was my fault. He is quiet, keeping to my demand. I’m sure by now he has given up talking to me. It’s either lead to screaming, crying or accidentally, well, yeah. So, I decide to break the silence, I choose to let him know a conversation between us is fine.

“I’ve been a bitch to you.” Great choice of words y/n. He throws a glance at me. Juust brilliant. But I have to go on. “I don’t even know which parts to apologize for the most. From the moment I realized I liked you, I’ve made you avoid me. I subconsciously, as much as consciously, forced you to feel the opposite of attracted to me. But then I didn’t stop. And then you were worried about me, and I just yelled at you. I didn’t want you to even sympathize with me. All my mind told me to do was get as far away from you.”

“So why did you kiss Billy?” Is that even important? It’s been a few months man.

“He’s an egomaniac, you know I would never like him” I retort, then recollect myself, “To forget, I suppose. I wanted to make you hurt. Jealous even. I knew you didn’t like him. He would hurt the most. At the same time, I selfishly didn’t want you to come my way at all. I wondered if it would make you hurt. If you would react, even though you were in a relationship.” I notice we have been waiting at the same T intersection for a while, no one behind us, nor on the road in front.

“Do you want to come to my place instead?” He asks nonchalantly, I audibly choke on the air. Is he serious? He notes that I am surprised, maybe even scandalized, and clarifies. “You are leaving in a few days, right? I don’t think the drive to your home would be enough to clarify everything.”

“Who said I was going to clarify everything?”

“Aren’t you?” He is quiet, looking into my eyes. The gaze is too sad, too innocent. I scoff and turn my head to the window. I take a deep breath.

“Drive to your place.” I try ignore the satisfaction of my driver. We are silent for another minute.

“Why didn’t you ever go after me when I was single?” He asks, referring to when I first moved into the school.

“I was on suppressants for the first year. The first few weeks I drank this, oh what do I even call it, just some medicine I suppose. It knocked me out for a day, and when I came to, I didn’t have a shred of my powers left. When I first came into school, I didn’t feel anyone’s emotions.” My attention shifts over to his face, listening, but concentrating on the road. “I didn’t know you liked me for around five weeks. And even then, I would never try hit on the popular boy.”

“So, when you first came into school, you didn’t have any ability at all?”

“Not in any form or way.” He lets out a chuckle, I frown, “Why, what’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing.” His laughter dying down, “Just, when I first saw you, I think any Empath in a mile radius would have known I had a crush on you.” I am shocked.

“You liked me that bad?” A blush creeps up his neck. I can’t believe this shit, “Why didn’t you say thing? You are the biggest flirt-?”

“It’s because,” He says, taking a turn down a street, “You were surrounded 24/7. You had this childish sense about you, always talking about Europe and your adventures. I actually assumed Jay or Katie had claimed you. Plus, I started hitting on Nancy, and then…I thought things would take off better with a Hawkins girl then someone who would probably take off at any given moment.”

“Like I am now.” I mutter. That’s true enough, I would never be able to stay here. He was more likely to settle.

We arrive at his house, and I’m snuck into his bedroom. Not really for any reason, just avoiding conspicuous questions. I sit on his bed, wondering about our next topic. What else do we have to settle?

“You know, I basically had a heart attack when you came out of that stall.”

“When you were smooching Nancy? Man, I was the one with the heart attack.” We laugh for a moment,

“I really thought out of everyone at school, there really couldn’t have been a worse person to see me in there.” Then he sits down next to me. “I still liked you. I think I always have.” Why does he have to say that, “You yelled at me over summer.”

“I was scared.” I say regretfully, but glad the topic changed, “After what you guys had gone through with the Demogorgon. El. I was so alone. And you were a range of emotion. Also, you were part of the reason I was freaking out so bad that October. But there was no way of telling you that I was aware, and suffering thorough the whole thing. Not without telling you I was an Empath. I didn’t trust anyone back then with that information.” I chuckle escapes my throat, “Oh, but so many people know now.”

“And we will keep it a secret.”  He reassures. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

“Yeah, nothing like having your mind feeling through how a monster works to make you feel isolated.” I rest my elbows on my knees, “I really do like your bat.”

“What happened that night?” He is hesitant to ask that question. At this point, I don’t care.

“I have been traumatized, and haunted by the memories I can scrape together. Which is not much. I am sick of feeling powerless about what happened, but to be honest,” I turn my head to meet his stare, “I really, really don’t remember what happened. And I can’t decide how to feel about that night. Because when I left, I was so happy. I didn’t even feel the pain of my feet being cut up, or the burn of my lungs. I must have run miles. It’s like falling asleep, you can’t exactly pinpoint when it happens. And the dream, of what I did…. I don’t even know if my brain was recording.” I cringe, and look at the floor again. This is not how teenage girls talk in boys’ rooms.

“But you came back.”

“It let me come back.” I say, “I don’t know what, but I know something called to me. And we had to have connected at some point. There was no time to even feel the fear and regret of my actions. As soon as I came to, it was because I heard you were calling for me.” The memory is both shameful, and yet, fills me with a happiness. That I was found. That I was carried down so I didn’t have to ruin my feet anymore. That I had a jacket over my naked, freezing body.

“I need to thank you for that day. For carrying me down” I praise, “But why didn’t you come to the Hospital with me?” I look at him, now it’s his turn to feel scared.

“That night...” he starts, “You had never shown any affection towards me before. Yet you wouldn’t come with us unless I was holding your hand. You weren’t making me want to avoid you, the opposite, you held onto me. I know the circumstances were less then fortunate, but I started to realize that you might actually like me. Maybe acting like a drunk, but they were some true feelings.” I am more then reminded of how weird I was acting that night, “When I found you, not to say I believe in destiny, but all I could think was, it was me that found you. That had to mean something. But when I got to the ambulance… you are prone to your outbursts. I didn’t want to push it. I didn’t want another rejection. Maybe, you were just being nice to me because you were traumatized,”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” I move up, and hug him, he accepts the embrace. “This situation is so fucked up. I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.”

We hold each other for a good while. Just exchanging heat, and breathing. Not crying; close to it, but too exhausted.

“Are we going to fall asleep like this?” He whispers, stroking my back. I like it.

“If you want to.” I murmur. 

So, we change our clothes. Kick off our shoes, he gives me a T-shirt to sleep in. I gladly take it. I don’t particularly care when I undress in front of him, nor when he undresses un front of me. This would have had to have been the least intimate thing that’s happened between us. He’s seen me naked covered in mud, and crying. I have felt his every emotion, every heart break, and accidently lead him to orgasm into my shoulder inside a janitor’s closet. Literally, what is a little bit of nudity in this world?

Out of that dress, and free of a bra, I climb under his covers. He follows, turning the light off. We settle into each other. I’m nice and let him be the big spoon, at least that’s what I tell myself.

“So, are we really not ever going to talk about what happened with the broken cabinet?”

“Do you want your days numbered, Harrington?”

“Have I told you yet how much I like what you’ve done with your hair?”

“The blue?” I ask, remembering the events with Rose, who had discovered first hand I liked Steve while dying said hair.

“Yeah, it suits you.”

“Don’t get sentimental with me.” He’s being cute. I don’t want more butterflies in my stomach.

“Mhhmm, Goodnight.” Me mumbles into my neck. It’s a pure notion. I don’t think tonight could have actually ended so perfectly.

We don’t end up sleeping for a long time, no matter how easily we drifted off; Up early in the morning, just to talk. 6am, no obligations to go anywhere. But we stayed awake, entangled in each other’s embrace, only wanting to chat. To pointlessly exchange in conversation. Catch up on each other. Enjoy what time we had left over together.

_Just be normal kids, forgetting that they could have been in love._


	22. Finale and Scrap-booking

I am not a fan of goodbyes. And neither do I believe that an end means a story is over. It most defiantly carries on; we just don’t know what happens next.

I already have a plane ticket for this evening, leaving for Lagos in Nigeria, where I reunite with my parents (although a surprise to them I am leaving, they are glad to be able to see me again. And as a legal Adult in that country, I am allowed to accompany them to work.). Quite possibly I will be spending Christmas on a continent unfamiliar to me.

The house feels a little emptier, now that I have collected most of my belongings and cleaned out my bedroom, which as returned as an unused guestroom. The minimalist ways of my family, and my luggage limit, has me leaving behind a few tokens. The school books will be Rose’s to use, and I also donated a bunch of my fiction books, cassettes, smaller clothing, and stationary to her. She can do what she wants with them now. She hung up a few of our collaborated drawings around the house; it makes me tear up a little inside. I could have stayed just five more months.

Saying goodbye to my boss at work was oddly emotional. You’d think being rid of work would’ve been a blessing; but that cinema I hold too dearly. We did have some interesting late nights, tiny disasters, and had plenty more graffiti to deal with. Cleaning is a good bonding exercise.

I take a last look at the backyard, I’ve been walking through the house like an inspection. Making sure all was right before I left, as if it mattered. Katie and Jay have been with me since sunrise. We drove around Hawkins one last time, although it was a Sunday morning, and I was tired as heck. We got out at Hawkins High around seven, ran around a little bit, laughed at the exams I won’t have to take, and generally reminisced at all the time we spent together. It hurt so much, the pain of me going, I felt every bit of their sorrow.

I left tire marks across the carpark, wheels screeching as I did a grand gesture of a final donut. I hope someone recognizes my work. I hope it lasts long enough to be remembered.

At home they had breakfast with me, and helped with my packing and clean up. That’s where I leave off now. They don’t have any parting gifts for me but their love. That’s all I need. And then I hear another car, no, two cars pull into our driveway.

“We invited a few more people for your farewell.” Katie winks, “I hope you don’t think we all expected you to run off into the wind.”

“It would have been easier.” I shrug, glad that she had the smarts to ignore my arrogant request of a quick departure. I never thought I’d feel so connected to this town. I haven’t been so connected to the cities and villages I crossed throughout my life. I didn’t want to see their faces, just in case it made me want to turn back. I had a plan, a plan to stick to. They unfortunately were not a part of it.

With less than half an hour left on the clock, I see the familiar shapes of Hawkins most notorious teenagers coming into our house, and hold back tears. I need to stay strong for this departure.

 

I share my final words with the young boys, glad to see Will’s recovery, Dustin’s newfound confidence, Mike’s ease, and Lucas’s unfolding emotions towards Max, bringing out something interesting in both of them.

Nancy and Johnathan, I don’t think I have much to say with these two. My words stick in my throat and they both laugh. Nancy jokes if we’d been paired in Chemistry, we would have hit it off months ago. I tell Johnathan to continue with his camerawork, it will be fascinating to see where it leads him in the future. I do know some amazing views all across Europe.

Of course, me and Steve are quiet, as everyone chats and looks around the house for the first time. My art is commented on, and Katie tell them about our many bonfires in the backyard. Once Mari settles them down in the living room, I run over to grab my bags out of my bedroom. I think we are all leaving to the boarder of town now, to see me cross it. Officially an exit.

He follows me, as I hoped he would. I needed to get a few words in, though they keep sounding wrong in my head. All over again, the words desertion and abandonment infiltrate my mind. I had just forgiven him, he had forgiven me, but now we don’t have time to dwell on that.

 “I’m going to miss you.” I break the silence.

“Of course you are.” A bittersweet smile, some joking in his voice. But it doesn’t sound cheerful.

“You are the biggest reason I don’t want to leave Hawkins. Huh, that would have been the opposite a few months ago.”

“Then why are you going? If you want to stay so bad, then-”

“I have to figure things out. At this point, I’ve done things with my Empathy I didn’t even know were possible. And then those lost days in the forest…I have to go to my parents. We have a bunch of contacts to talk with. People familiar with the paranormal. I need to go, because things are not fine with me. And I am still in many ways scared. I can’t even look at the woodland without this internal panic.”

“Will you ever come back?”

“I hope so. It could be six months, could be six years. Maybe sooner, maybe never. But I do believe life with lead us down the way we need to go.”

He takes a hold of my scarred hands, the pink lines jagged and shallow, injuries I don’t remember getting from the days of my disappearance. I’m sure they’ll fade with time, but again, they cause me to constantly recall why I have to leave. His hands are warmer then mine, the sentimental gesture making my heart leap into my throat. I look up from our intertwining hands, and into his eyes. He’s already looking at me, in thought, observing. The tension is thick; I struggle to breathe in, shallow, slow breaths.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper into the air, bottom lip quivering. The space between us starting to close.

“You don’t have to be.” I barely catch those last words.

Our first kiss is our final kiss.

He catches my lips, slowly leaning into me, hands releasing mine to hold onto my lower back, pressing us closer. It’s close mouthed and bittersweet. I’m in between the joy of finally kissing the boy I’ve liked for so long, the delicate way he holds me, the soft connection of our lips; and also caught in the despair of how ultimate this moment is. How a kiss should mean the beginning of a relationship, not the conclusion. The conclusion of something that never happened.

Steve may not be a King anymore, but he’s still kissing a Queen.

I hear the muffled click of a camera, and break off quickly, surprising him. I turn my head towards the offending sound, catching sight of my, oh so sly, and smirking cousin.

“Seriously?” I muse, not particularly annoyed that we were caught.

“Just thought I’d add to the scrapbook.” Rose shrugs, pulling out the finished polaroid with a satisfied flick of her wrist. I sigh and rest my head on Steve’s chest.

“Fair enough.” It was the best moment to capture in all honesty. She proves to me again that she really is the perfect cousin, even if she did make us eat waffles too much.

 

* * *

 

 

Passing Jay’s chalk drawn line of the Hawkins boarder is more of a punch to the chest then I thought it would be.

Everyone had parked to the side of the road, and watched as I, sticking half my body out the window, waved them all goodbye. They never crossed the line, like it was a physical barrier. The kids were jumping and waving back at me. Aunt Mari and Rose are in the car with me, blasting one of the cassettes I will be, unfortunately, leaving behind.

Katie and Jay whoop and few times, probably waving and jumping around more then the kids. I told them about my kiss, and they were like proud parents.

“Yo, if he’s with you, doesn’t that mean he should get a title?” Katie asked, I shook my head.

“We aren’t together. And that Royal stuff was just a joke.”

“What’s with Royal talk?” Steve asked, stepping closer to me. I redened a little bit, remembering our group’s inner joke of my poetic teasing.

“Y/n got us all these cute nicknames.” Katie grinned, “I’m the Queen of the Moon, and Jay is the King of the Sun.”

“And our little Astronomist here,” Jay jokes, ruffling my hair, “is the Queen of the Stars.”

“Queen of the stars?” Steve says the words over again, testing them, a slight smile on his lips, “I’ve heard you say that before. It’s cute.”

“Soooo” Katie sing-songs, “Does Steve get one?”

“It’s just a joke, he doesn’t need one.” I roll my eyes. I can’t exactly say the word King doesn’t suit him. But it use to mean something very different. King of Hawkins.

“How about, since we’ve already taken everything else in the sky, he’s King of the Clouds?”

“No, come on.” I protest, looking over at Steve, “Just pretend they aren’t talking”

“But I think it has a ring to it.” Jay adds, “You can look at the sky every day, stare at the clouds and mourn over-”

“Moving on.” I talk over the end of his sentence, looking away from Jay’s pouting face. Yet later as we exited the house, a little behind schedule, Steve brought the topic back up once more.

“It may not be official,” He whispered to me, “But I don’t mind if you think of me as King of the Clouds.”

“If it makes you feel better about yourself,” I humoured, “Then I might remember it. Off the books though.”

Before I left, all my guests had all huddled together, in a tearful group hug. Tearful because I couldn’t help but project my sadness, and also delight, of our short-lived friendships. I was of course, called out for making everyone cry. But it just made me laugh. What I had here was real. I at least took that away.

I look out in the distance as they all clamber back into their cars, Steve the last one to move. I give him a final wave, and he responds in turn, adding a small bow of his head.

I hold onto his emotions for as long as I can, even when we are out of eyesight, I grab onto what I can. Trying to memorize these final moments. I start crying when they are finally too far for me to reach.

“You are going to come back, right?” Rose asks, and I have to still my thoughts. This is the time I can be most honest with them, Rose and Aunt Mari. Our drive to the airport gives us heaps of time to talk, as well as a pressure that if I don’t say something now, I won’t have a chance to for a while.

“I hope so.” I admit. “I would love for it to be as soon as next year, but who knows how long my journey will take.”

“Sooo what are you doing?”

“I….” My head turns to the window, looking up into the sky. At the clouds. “I’ll get mum’s take on everything. She’s researching all she thinks could have caused those days. There are a bunch of spiritualists, Empaths and witch doctors that might have some ideas on it too. Mum has been reaching into these communities, into lore and such. We have to find out more, if I want to continue with my life normally. Just in case an episode happens again. And also, to finish my Empath Maturity in peace.”

“Are you still really an empath?” Aunt Mari asks, “You have done quite a few things I never expected an Empath to do. Things that aren’t at all synonymous with the things I have read up upon.”

I take a gulp of air. That is true.

“But do we even know everything about Empaths? This is defiantly another unanswered question. Hopefully, it will be another thing I will learn about. And you will be the first person I will call when I find answers.”

Our drive continues on for another hour before I am asked another tough question.

“So, what about Steve?” Rose asks, Aunt Mari shooting me a surprised look.

“What about Steve?” She asks, “Don’t tell me I’ve been left out of the loop.”

“No,” I sigh, “Nothing like that.”

“They are parting lovers” Rose exclaims dramatically, “Broken by the pressure of the paranormal”

“Yeah actually,” I agree, face thoughtful, if only to humour Rose “That is a great analogy, thank you.”

“Well then.” Aunt Mari continues, “What about Steve? This sounds tragic.”

“I don’t mind.” That is a sort of lie. “If he finds someone else, I’ll be glad for him. He needs someone. He’s romantic like that. I can’t be jealous, we live two different lives, it kind of was going to happen anyways. Yes, I’m sad, and disappointed, a little heartbroken, but in the end…I’ve always been use to being single. And in a few years, even when he probably finds someone, I’ll find a way to be okay with that.”

“Wise words” Aunt Mari nods, she knows all about mourning. My Uncle’s death, which happened before I was even a teen, had apparently taken my aunt years of grief before she recovered. “But Rose, if you don’t make sure that boy remains single for at least six months, I will be thoroughly disappointed”

“Oh shizz, that reminds me.” I straighten up, and look back at Rose, “If you want a job at the cinema, I gave my boss some good words about you. He’ll be happy to interview you.”

“Sweet.” She high fives me, even if I’m at an awkward angle.

“Sorry to remind you.” Aunt Mari quickly says, “But I also promised your mother to update you guys on any other paranormal occurrences in Hawkins.”

“That’s fine.” I bite my lip. It’s not just Hawkins that experiences such incidences, but it was the worst paranormal event I’ve been apart of. I’m sure this hasn’t ended. And I know, if something is happening again, I will probably not return.

I’m sorry, but no love, no friendship, will keep me coming back, if I have to face another monster. That is, unless I develop, and change into someone that can tolerate that sort of evil.

Who knows how this next adventure will change me.

 

* * *

 

 

Not that I had to tell anyone, not that this is important to the story, but the moment I fall into my parents’ arms, I release one and a half years of my yearning into them. I am crying, they are crying, and we just hug at the airport terminal, for a very long time, onlookers not even phased by the spectacle.

“I missed you two so much.” I sob, parting from them. I stare at their faces, a little more rugged, and sunburnt, but still the same. And my mother’s calm; as I latch onto it again, I realize how much I missed it. Nothing in the world is as potent and powerful as a mother’s touch.

 

_“I have so much to tell you guys.”_

 

* * *

 

_\- THE END -_


	23. Q&A/End Notes

THANK _YOU SO MUCH for making it to the end. I wrote this story/edited in the span of 5 days, it came to me and I just needed it out of my system, even if it was not up to a standard I am very proud of._

_As things come into the inbox I will post up FAQ and all that. As of this moment I don't have much to say? I just can't believe I wrote this._

 

 

 

> **FAQ**

  * **Is there going to be a more content for future seasons? A part 2**  I don't believe so. I don't even know if I will bother watching more Stranger Things. But only time will tell at this point. You are all welcome to give me ideas in where this story can go!



 

  * **What is y/n's sexuality? And why do you suck at writing smut/romance?** It's your sexuality! It is whatever you want it to be! Though this is written as a heterosexual relationship, I left a few moments ambiguous. Also, I am an Ace, a quite inexperienced explicit writer. I feel awkward and iky writing smut scenes, so although I am trying to build up my confidence/skills in them....I'm more of a philosophy & comedy writer. Yet everyone I know asks for X readers?? I'm always stuck writing romance, I feel like I'm disappointing y'all heheh



 

  * **What happened in the forest?** Yes, I was very creative in that plot point, and very secretive. The thing is, although I am quite the Tolkien in my universes, I did not think being upfront in what happened was...interesting? There is more excitement, more adventure in not knowing. I think what you, reader, have invented in your head is much more interesting then my idea! Please share with me your thoughts, I would love to see how everyone interpreted those moments! 


  * **What do Rose and Aunt Mari look like?**  I left that ambiguous because I hoped you would come up with your own, make believe versions of the relatives. If you want short hair on rose, make it short. Long, frizzy, hair? You want her to be tall? Short? Make her however you want a perfect fairy cousin to be!



 

I had a great end note written here but AO3 deleted it (ahhhhh my luck!)

SO to end it off shortly, keep the FAQ's going, comment, just tell me anything about how you felt. This story wasn't meant to exist, yet multiple all-nighters later, here I am. Posting for a fandom I don't follow, with a story over 40k. Wow. 

Also big shout out to Lipton Iced tea, keeping me company when no one else did!

 

luvs xxxx


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